Crash My Party
by burnthiscityxx
Summary: As best friends, Quinn Fabray and Mike Chang were living a perfectly choreographed dance – completely synchronized and in tune with each other. But when lost love comes back to find both of them, they're about to realize that life's dance is about to get a lot more complicated.
1. Chapter 1: Kerosene

**Y'all, WHAT am I doing?! I have one fic in the process of wrapping up, not to mention a bunch of ideas for oneshots, but here I am, offering up a brand-spanking new story to fill your Sam/Quinn-deprived minds. I think I have an addiction and I can't leave it alone, but what the hell. :P**

**Anyway, here it is!**

**I came up with this idea after I realized that I wasn't too happy with the way they portrayed Quinn in Season 4. I felt like she deserved more screentime (I might be biased, I know) and I've always imagined that she and Mike have been friends since they were kids. I've never wanted them to date, so I thought I'd write a Quinn-centric fic and explore their friendship, as well as their relationships with other people. Y'all know how frustrated I get with writing Quinn sometimes (the girl writes HERSELF), so I thought by focusing just on her thoughts, I could really get it this time. ****Just so y'all can understand better when this was set in relation to the show, here's what you need to know:**

**Quinn, Mike, Santana, Rachel, and Kurt moved to New York after graduation. Finn is mentioned and may make an appearance, but he still lives in Ohio. The story starts when Sam, Tina, and Blaine move to New York after their own high school graduation. Sam and Brittany never dated and nobody made any visits to McKinley while they were in their senior year.**

**So here it goes! I hope all you lovely readers are willing and ready to take a ride into Quinn's twisty mind with me! Haha. But seriously, a review would be very awesome - I feel like I'm writing a little differently with this one (but you can still expect lots of country music references!).**

**And I don't own Glee, obviously. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Kerosene**

_Now I don't hate the one who left, you can't hate someone who's dead  
He's out there holding on to someone, I'm holding up my smoking gun  
I'll find somewhere to lay my blame the day she changes her last name  
Well I'm givin' up on love 'cause love's given up on me  
Well I'm givin' up on love, hey love's given up on me  
_

Quinn rolled over, groaning in protest at the sunlight that streamed through her flimsy curtains. Burying herself deeper into the fluffy sheets, she was all ready to declare it a mental health day – until her cell phone rang loudly, Icona Pop's _'I Love It'_ blaring loudly throughout her bedroom. She cursed under her breath, before untangling her limbs from her blanket, and reached for the small device.

"Hello?" she mumbled, tossing her messy blonde hair over one shoulder, so it didn't get in the way.

"Wake up, sunshine," a commanding, stern voice came through the speaker and Quinn nearly chucked her phone across the room. In her opinion, it was far too early to be listening to Mike Chang.

"As if," Quinn scoffed, kicking the covers off her bare legs and getting out of bed. She took a quick glance in mirror and cringed at the huge blonde knot that was forming at the back of her head.

"We have dance class in an hour and I have to make sure you're alive enough to go through the steps," he snapped.

"So dance with my corpse," she shot back, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, as she struggled to pull on a pair of shorts.

"Charming, aren't you," Mike scoffed. "Hurry up," he clicked out of the conversation and Quinn pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. She had known Mike Chang for nearly all her life, ever since she noticed him staring at her doing plies at the playground when they were in kindergarten. Their obsession with dancing made them best friends and while Quinn preferred the soft, graceful movements of ballet and Mike liked to pop and lock, it had been the perfect fit, right from the start.

But still, Mike had the uncanny ability to wake up hours earlier than Quinn – and never let her forget it, either. She sighed, throwing a loose sweater over her tank top and grabbed her dance bag. Sprinting out her bedroom door, she skidded into her small kitchen, only to be greeted by a chirpy, smiling, Mike Chang.

"Thought you could use a little energy," he chuckled, gently shoving a bagel in her open mouth and coaxing a tumbler of hot coffee in her hands.

"I hate you," she muttered, bits of bagel falling out of her mouth, as she set her dance bag down. "How did you get in, anyway? I thought I bolted the door to keep out unwanted guests," Quinn smirked, staring pointedly at him.

"I've had a key since we moved to the city," Mike stuck out his tongue playfully, earning a playful punch from Quinn. "So…Tina called,"

Quinn paused, her hand with the bagel on it halfway to her mouth. Looking up at him, she cocked her head slightly, trying to gauge his reaction to his ex-girlfriend calling him up after a year of silence. "What did she say?" Quinn asked.

"She's in New York," Mike shrugged. "She got into Pace,"

"That's really awesome," Quinn commented, feeling a small surge of pride for her former Glee club member. They had bonded during her junior year, when they were both dating guys who were on the football team, but their friendship had lasted even past those relationships. Unfortunately, much like all the other friendships she had cultivated in high school, it had disintegrated when she moved to New York.

"I guess," Mike shrugged again, picking up Quinn's bag and his own. Leading them out of the small apartment, they quickly fell in step with each other, headed towards the subway.

Like most of the recitals and performances they had done together, Quinn and Mike's routine resembled a well-rehearsed dance. Executed perfectly every single time, they had both moved to New York with a college acceptance in one hand and a pipe dream in the other. It had been tough at first, spending a month sleeping on Rachel and Kurt's couch (well, Quinn did. Finn, who was visiting, and Mike slept on the floor). After a while, Quinn and Mike both found jobs – waitressing for her, bartending for him – and moved out together. Over time, he found his own apartment and they both quit waitressing and bartending for teaching positions at the Dance Space Studio on Broadway (a chance try-out that had started with the two of them breaking and entering). It wasn't much, but Quinn liked performing this particular dance over and over again. It comforted her, when the city was particularly scary. It helped her breathe, when she felt suffocated at school. And it reminded her, that if she ever fell, her best friend would always be there, with his strong arms, to pick her up.

Although right now, she was just thankful he was hovering over her in a packed subway, so she wouldn't be crushed to death by all the other passengers.

"You think I should see her?" Mike asked, his face inches away from hers. Looking up at him, she raised her right eyebrow in a sceptical response.

"I think you're asking the wrong person,"

"Aw, come on. If I can't ask my best friend, who am I supposed to ask?" he whined, lurching slightly to the left, as the train turned. "Besides, I don't know if I want to see her or not…of if I'm supposed to,"

"I still think you're asking the wrong person," Quinn gripped his arm to steady herself, before leaning back against the wall comfortably. "I don't keep in touch with any of my exes,"

"Liar. You still talk to Puck and Finn. And that guy you dated last month, Chris? You had coffee with him last weekend," Mike pointed out, grinning.

Quinn glared at him. "Well, Finn's dating Rachel! And Chris and I are in a study group together. As for Puck…he sort of noses his way into everybody's life and you know that. The other day, he randomly called up Kurt, just to ask for his opinion on striped ties," she giggled.

"Well, Puck's like a puppy – he sort of misses all of us, since he's so far away," Mike reasoned. "But I will give you one person who you don't keep in touch with anymore,"

"Who?"

"Sam Evans,"

The name hit her, like a blow to the stomach. It had been a while - a year, to be specific – since she had heard his name in such close vicinity. She would hear it whispered, behind her back, or catch just the end of his name, tapering away as soon as she walked into the room. But for the most part, she stayed away from even thinking about him.

Suddenly, the subway seemed too small to hold all her thoughts.

* * *

"I called her," Mike announced, kicking off from the tree he had been leaning against, to meet Quinn. She dropped her bag at their feet and started to pull her hair into a ponytail to beat the rising temperature of the city.

"Great," Quinn replied, her voice muffled from the hair tie she held between her lips.

"Don't you want to know what happened?"

"No offense, Mikey, but whatever happens between you and your ex-girlfriend is none of my business," Quinn shrugged, leading them towards a nearby café.

"She's your friend, too," he pointed out, jogging slightly to keep up with her. Together, they pushed open the glass doors to a trendy neighbourhood café and Quinn sighed, letting the cold air-conditioning wash over her.

"Yeah, and if she wants to know how I'm doing, she can call me," Quinn explained, quickly ordering their drinks to the barista – an iced tea for her and a lemonade for him.

"That doesn't make any sense. You keep in touch with Puck and that's not because he calls you all the time," Mike argued, grabbing their drinks for them, before heading back out on the street.

"What's with bringing up my exes today?"

"Okay, so Puck doesn't really count as an ex. Sam, on the other hand…"

Quinn stopped in her tracks, holding up a hand to Mike's face. "We're not doing this. Look, I'm glad Tina's alright. But we drifted apart, although it's clear you and her are still close. But we're not…not about exes, okay, Mike? At least, not mine, anyway," she pleaded.

"Alright, alright," Mike shrugged and Quinn smiled, reminded again of how laidback her best friend was – a trait she clearly didn't possess. "So, what are we doing tonight?"

"I'm exhausted! How do you even have energy right now?"

"Because I'm not old, like you," he joked, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they made their way towards Quinn's apartment building. "Seriously though, any plans?"

"Nothing came up. Chris wanted to hang out, but his plan consisted of a movie and a bottle of wine – somehow, I don't think it had anything to do with our study group," Quinn scoffed.

"Are you ever going to stop breaking guys' hearts?"

"Probably not," she shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous smile curling at the corners of her lips. "What did you have in mind?"

Mike shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze directed at the ground. Suddenly, Quinn had a very clear idea of what Mike wanted to do that night.

"No," she said firmly.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"It's probably something along the lines of going to see Tina, right?" Quinn asked, raising one eyebrow. "What's going to happen? You're going to visit her and she'll fall magically in love with you?"

"First off, just because you think the subject of your exes is taboo, doesn't mean you can hate on my love life," Mike started. "Secondly, Tina and I didn't have a bad falling out. We still care about each other – is it so bad to think we could start things up again?" he shrugged, following Quinn into the elevator up to her apartment.

"You're delusional. Don't you think that in the year you guys spent apart, that she'd have found someone else? That she's different?" Quinn pointed out, stepping into her apartment and tossing her keys on a nearby table. "And I'm not saying it to be mean. You dated Katie for like, a month and you were pretty intense with Caroline, so I don't think it's completely crazy to think that Tina could've found someone, too,"

Mike paused, letting Quinn's words sink in. "Caroline and Katie were flings," he protested.

"Caroline met your _mother_!" Quinn exclaimed, hopping up on the kitchen counter. "If you want to go, I can't stop you. But I'm not going with you,"

"You have to!" Mike lamented, tossing his lemonade into the nearby trash can. "I can't do this without my best friend,"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him, scrambling for an excuse not to go. It wasn't that she didn't like Tina – after all, they were close once. It was just that once Mike and Tina were in a room together, it was like nothing else mattered or existed. They were electric together back in high school and it was the sort of connection that couldn't be broken from a year of separation, she knew that. But it still didn't mean she was going to like hanging out with them, alone. She'd probably stay for ten minutes, then leave uncomfortably, while Mike started to whisper sweet nothings into Tina's ear.

She hopped off the counter, shoving her half-finished iced tea towards Mike. Poking him in his chest forcefully, Quinn looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted together in defiance.

"Fine. I'll go."

* * *

Quinn bounced from foot to foot, her flats making soft tapping sounds against the concrete pavement. Beside her, Mike gripped the neck of a wine bottle so tight, his knuckles had turned white. Around them, people moved about their lives, hurrying to get home or to meet a friend, as the night sky draped over the city.

"You're sure about this?" Quinn asked, stealing a quick glance at her best friend. If he hadn't been so nervous about the whole thing, she would've found his expression – half anxious, half terrified – almost hilarious.

"Yeah, let's just…let's just go,"

Without another word, he grabbed Quinn's hand and pulled her up the stairs, hurrying through doors and into the elevator. As they inched closer and closer to Tina's apartment, Quinn felt overwhelmed with an unsettling feeling. Her hands started to sweat and her heart started to beat out of rhythm. For a split second, she thought she was having a panic attack, but the industrial-sized elevator was bigger than the one in her own building – not to mention, it was only her and Mike occupying the space.

"Are you nervous?" she asked, twisting a blond curl around her fingers. Mike glanced at her briefly, before focusing his gaze back on the numbers ascending on the screen in front of him.

"Anxious. I haven't seen her in a long time,"

Quinn studied his posture, the way he kept running his hand through his hair and the way he stood – eagerly leaning forward, almost as if he was about to take flight. "You still love her, don't you?" she asked, her voice soft as a whisper.

"I…yeah," he shrugged. "We dated for a long time and even when we weren't together, it was still…it was still there, you know? I'm not crazy, am I?" he asked, his dark eyes turning to face her. They were filled with hope and promises and Quinn felt her heart ache for her best friend.

She didn't believe in true love, at least, not in the way Mike did. He was committed, loyal, and idealistic when it came to matters of the heart, while she was disillusioned and fickle. He kept one steady relationship at a time and Quinn bounced around with reckless abandon.

"No, you're not crazy," she sighed, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Are _you_ nervous?"

"Why would I be nervous about meeting your ex-girlfriend again?" Quinn asked, cocking her right eyebrow.

"Do you just conveniently forget that you guys were once best friends?" he scowled. "I thought you'd be a little excited,"

"I'm curious to see what she's been up to," Quinn sighed, hoping the answer could placate Mike, as they stepped out of the elevator together. They turned a right corner and she counted softly, until they both stopped in front of a nondescript, white door. Behind it, she could hear a familiar song playing, but couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. Her heartbeat sped up and for the second time in a matter of twenty minutes, Quinn briefly wondered if she was having a panic attack – but the halls were wide and spacious, brightened with a string of Christmas lights someone had forgotten to take down.

"Ready?" Mike asked. She glanced at him one last time, the best friend in her quickly making sure that he looked appropriate. He looked more like a sophisticated New Yorker, all dressed in black, than her best friend from Lima, Ohio, but it worked on him – leather jacket, boots, and all. She shot him a big grin, suddenly overcome with pride for him, and nodded in response to his question.

"Ready," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. He knocked shakily, rapping against the wood with his fist, and Quinn could hear the tap-tap sound of feet as they neared.

After several seconds, the door flung open and Quinn nearly staggered backwards at the sight before her. Dressed in a tight, tribal printed dress and a pair of black ankle boots, Tina Cohen Chang looked stunning – like a more grown up, more mature version of herself in high school. Beside Quinn, she heard Mike suck in his breath sharply and she knew he was a goner.

"Hi! Oh my gosh, it's so good to see you guys!" Tina launched herself in between Quinn and Mike, pulling them down to her height for a fierce hug. "Come in!" with a strong tug, she dragged both of them inside the apartment, closing the door behind them.

Tina kept talking and trying to catch up with Mike awkwardly, while Quinn turned around in a slow circle, taking in the apartment. It was cosy and warm, the walls already littered with pictures, prints, and inspiration boards – a trend Rachel had started in high school and one that stuck with all the Glee girls. She noticed a small replica of their show choir Nationals trophy in one corner of the room and a guitar occupied another corner, propped up against the wall. But out of all the familiar things inside the apartment, Quinn found herself gravitating towards the iPod dock that sat on a shelf a little ways from the television set. She ran her fingers over it, trying hard to remember what it was that made it so recognizable.

"So, do you want a drink? We've got soda, water, beer, and the wine you guys brought," Tina sidled up next to Quinn. "We've also got tequila, but let's just save that for later," she chuckled nervously.

"Um. Just a glass of water, please," she replied politely, giving her a smile before turning back to the iPod dock. The volume was turned down low, but the beat of the song sounded familiar – familiar enough to make her feel uncomfortable, as if something wasn't right. Ripping her gaze away from the iPod and the song, she saw Tina's hands shake as she poured water into a glass for Quinn.

'_That's strange. Why is she so…fidgety? And nervous?' _she thought to herself. From across the room, Mike noticed Quinn's puzzled expression and he stepped in, striking up a conversation with Tina about her move to the city. Grateful for the distraction, Quinn turned her attention back to the iPod dock, trying to dig up a long-lost memory that she knew was associated with this particular song. Checking to make sure Tina was occupied, Quinn tapped at the iPod wheel and she moved closer, as it came to life.

_Who Are You When I'm Not Looking  
Blake Shelton_

"Oh my gosh," Quinn breathed out, her heartbeat quickening so fast she felt like it would explode out of her chest. The apartment suddenly shrank around her and she felt her throat close up, as she tried to suck in breaths of air.

"Quinn? Everything okay?" Mike's voice made her turn away from the song and she looked him in the eyes desperately. She needed to get out, she needed fresh air, and she needed to be as far away from Blake Shelton's voice as possible.

"I just…um…" Quinn stammered, trying to string together the right combination of words to tell Mike that she needed to leave immediately.

"I can change the song, if you want," Tina offered, walking towards the stereo and deftly switching to another playlist. Quinn opened her mouth to protest, didn't say anything when The Cure started playing instead. "Guess you're really not a fan of country music, huh?"

"I didn't think you were," Mike pointed out. Quinn made her way towards him and grabbed the glass of water on the kitchen counter, downing it one gulp.

"Well…tastes change, I guess," Tina shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Actually, a lot of things changed after you guys left McKinley,"

Mike raised his eyebrows sceptically and Quinn nudged him, trying to send a telepathic message that something wasn't right. _'Come on, Mike. She's going to tell you she's dating someone else or she's engaged and we need to go. Now,' _she pinched his arm for good measure, but Mike didn't do anything but flinch slightly.

"What changed?" he asked.

Tina shifted her weight from one foot to the other and gripped the shelf behind her tightly. For a moment, Quinn saw the old version of Tina – the scared, cautious Tina who had shocked just about everybody when she announced she wanted to handle the solo for True Colors back in Glee club. It was a little comforting, but Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong with the whole situation.

"After Regionals last year, things got…" Tina started, but she was cut off by one of the bedroom doors – conveniently hidden from the kitchen and living room – slammed loudly.

Quinn jumped at the sound, clutching at Mike's arm. "Wait, is there someone else here?"

Before Tina could respond, a fourth, separate voice – one that ran deep and husky, with a familiar accent – filled the apartment.

"Tee, where'd you put all my shirts? I can't find a single…oh,"

It was like seeing a ghost – if all ghosts were six feet tall, blonde, and had a six-pack that wouldn't quit. Quinn wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and will the floor to swallow her whole or she wanted to click her heels three times just to go home, but no matter what she wanted to do, her body wasn't cooperating. Her ghosts had been locked away for a long time now, trapped in the dark recesses of her brain, and for good reason. But now, here was one, in all his glory, his hair falling sexily over his eyebrow, his blue-green eyes shining just like the last time she saw him – nearly two years ago.

_Sam Evans._

They stayed silent for a while – long enough that The Cure transitioned into Bruno Mars – and it wasn't until then that Quinn realized she had been gripping Mike's arm so hard, her fingernails were digging into his flesh. He hissed when she broke skin and they sprang apart, but not before an understanding look passed between them.

"We've actually got a really early morning tomorrow – classes and all that," Mike started, his voice even. Quinn knew he was shaking on the inside and grasped his hand, although she wasn't sure whether it was to calm him down or if it was to steady herself.

"Oh. But we didn't even eat," Tina pointed out, her eyes falling on the empty plates around the dinner table – only now did Quinn realize that there were four places set, instead of three.

"We're not…we're not that hungry," Mike explained, as Quinn tugged on his hand, urging him to leave faster. "See you around, guys. Welcome to the city," he quipped, plastering on a fake smile, before backing towards the door. He twisted the doorknob and ducked out quickly, tugging Quinn along with him.

Before she closed the door shut, Quinn looked up and without warning, her stare locked on Sam's. Those green-blue eyes were still the same innocent, trustworthy, loving ones she had looked into so long ago, the same ones she had fallen in love with almost three years ago. Quinn felt her heart soften and her shoulders relax. But then, her gaze fell to his hands and as quickly as the calm had overcome her, it disappeared. Because those hands - the ones that used to grip at Quinn's waist during hot summer nights in Lima – were now grasping Tina's hands, his fingers intertwined with Tina's.

_Tina._

Quinn opened her mouth to point it out, to say something, but before she could, Mike yanked her into the hallway and the door fell shut.


	2. Chapter 2: Where Are You Tonight?

**First off - thank you! I was really nervous going into this fic, but all your kind words just spurred on the inspiration and here I am, posting up the second chapter! :)**

**As it always happens, I reread the first chapter and found a bunch of stuff I thought felt wrong. :s Eep. I was inconsistent with the color of Sam's eyes - let's just clear it up and say they're green. Also, just to point out, my timeline is obviously a little strange - Blaine, Tina, and Sam are entering their first year of college, which means the rest are in their second year. I'm not sure what time of the year this is set in, but I'm not dedicating a whole chapter to the start of the new school year or whatever. So you can just assume we're somewhere in September, kay? :)**

**Anyway, here's the second chapter! There's a little bit more Sam and Quinn interaction, but if y'all could tell me what you think of the banter between Mike and Quinn, I'd also really appreciate it. :)**

**Enjoy, read, and please review! Your comments mean so much to a writer - even a writer of fanfiction. :P**

**Obviously, I don't own Glee or its characters. DUH.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Where Are You Tonight?**

_There's a white diamond gloom on the dark side of this room and a pathway that leads up to the stars.  
If you don't believe there's a price for this sweet paradise, remind me to show you the scars.  
There's a new day at dawn and I've finally arrived.  
If I'm there in the morning, baby, you'll know I've survived.  
I can't believe it, I can't believe I'm alive,  
But without you it just doesn't seem right.  
Oh, where are you tonight?_

She pulled the toaster lever downwards and grabbed her coffee mug, leaning against the kitchen counter comfortably. Outside, the sun shone brightly and with just a quick peek, Quinn knew it was going to be a torturously hot day. She liked those best, though – there was something exhilarating about being able to run around the city in the least amount of clothes deemed socially acceptable. Unfortunately, Quinn also knew she would never be able to enjoy another hot summer day again. In fact, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to enjoy anything in New York ever again - not if Sam and Tina were going to be cavorting around the same city she lived in.

Oh, god, she wanted to throw up.

Instead, the sound of the toaster interrupted her thoughts and she caught the Pop Tart that came out, quickly shoving a piece into her mouth and letting the warm strawberry filling coat her tongue. She wasn't one to have sweet things in the morning; in fact, Quinn was pretty strict about her diet. But desperate times called for desperate measures and seeing Sam and Tina together last night was definitely a call for desperation.

"Hey, sunshine,"

Quinn whipped her head around and smiled, seeing Mike saunter into the kitchen. "Hey, Chang," she quipped, offering him the other half of her Pop Tart. He took it wordlessly, chewing on the ends while leaning across the counter.

"How are you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in concern.

"How am I?" Quinn wondered aloud, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Let's see…my ex-boyfriend, who I haven't spoken to in like, two years, showed up in the city I'm living in. Oh, and he's living with _your_ ex-girlfriend, who you're still in love with. How do you think I am?"

"Freaked?" Mike shrugged, dusting off the crumbs on his hands. He rounded the counter to grab Quinn's bag and together, they both walked out of her apartment towards the nearby subway. "At least they're just living together, right? Blaine told me they got really close during senior year and I guess…I mean, Sam's a good dude. He'll take care of her,"

Quinn cringed at Mike's blind faith. Clearly, he still hadn't picked up on the obvious relationship between Tina and Sam – either that or he was in serious denial. "Yeah, I guess so," she muttered lamely, as she swiped her subway card and they hurried into the train together.

"I wonder why Sam didn't get an apartment with Blaine, though. Tee's always talked about getting her own place in the city," Mike mused.

"Can we not talk about them?" Quinn asked abruptly. She knew that the more Mike talked, the more she would have to lie. A part of her knew she would have to tell him eventually, but the idea of shattering the illusion Mike had already created was something that was literally making her nauseous.

"Why do you never talk about Sam?" he retaliated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You talk about Puck and Finn all the time. Not to mention all those losers you go on dates with," Mike pointed out.

"Okay, why are you being so pushy about this all of a sudden?" Quinn scrunched her nose in annoyance. "I don't recall you ever getting this obsessed about any other aspect of my love life,"

"Or lack of," Mike teased, earning him a swift, playful punch in the arm from his best friend. "I never noticed it before, I guess," he explained.

"Well, quit noticing," she snapped.

"Touchy,"

"I'd just…"

"Rather not talk about it. I know," Mike finished her sentence, and she knew he had already let it go. Silence fell between them for the next few subway stops, before Quinn's curiosity got the best of her.

"So, why do you think they decided to get an apartment together?" she asked, as they stepped out of the train to join in the mad rush of people.

Mike shrugged, grabbing a free flyer from a passer-by and handing it to her. "It's cheaper. They're both going to school around the same area. Besides, it's nice that they have each other to lean on in the big city – kind of like us,"

Quinn nodded, although her insides felt like they were constricting from lack of air. _'What school is he going to? What's he majoring in? Comic books and impressions?'_ she thought, laughing bitterly to herself. But before she even had a chance to answer, Mike dropped her bag in her hands and dropped an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"I'll see you after class? Don't forget, we're teaching tonight,"

She watched him sprint across the courtyard to get to his next class – probably some medical terminology seminar or something equally confusing – and giggled softly when he dodged around a group of skaters, his lithe figure bending around the crowds of people to pass through.

Mike had been there for her through everything, from the days she was bullied to the days she ruled the school as head cheerleader. He had held her hand through all the times she needed support and he had pushed her hard enough during the times she needed motivation the most. Quinn was lucky to have a friend like him, closer than any of her family members could ever be and more understanding than any boyfriend could ever try to be.

She just wished he wasn't so damn optimistic all the time.

* * *

"5, 6, 7, 8!" Mike counted, before launching into a series of complicated dance moves, his arms weaving in and around his body. Beads of sweat flung from his forehead as he spun, his feet stomping in time to the beat of the song that blared from the stereo. In front of him, a group of kids watched in awe, as their instructor snapped his fingers and Quinn suddenly came into the picture – leaping across the floor in perfect time with the change in music. She moved gracefully and elegantly, executing each move with the precision that only came with years of training.

After another minute, the music finally tapered down and there was a rousing sound of applause from the kids. Panting and breathless, Quinn and Mike bowed exaggeratedly, before sitting cross-legged in front of their audience.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked.

One of the younger girls, Elizabeth, raised her hand eagerly. When Mike nodded, she said, "I liked it when Quinn came in. She looked like a butterfly,"

"Thank you," Quinn smiled and Elizabeth blushed, turning her head away shyly.

"Alright, now, you guys took Modern Dance to learn a little bit of everything, right?" Mike clapped his hands together to get the room's attention. Quinn slipped away quietly, relegating herself to the corner of the room, where the stereo system was. Mike had always been better at conducting classes and taking charge, while she picked out the mixes and choreographed most of their routines. Much like their dance performances, their teaching styles were also synchronised.

Quinn started the music for another Mike Chang showcase and she watched, mesmerized as his limbs moved like liquid. After the song ended, she got up to showcase her part of the dance again and for the next hour, they taught the steps to the kids. Some were on point – picking up the moves easily and flawlessly. Others had more trouble, like the Schrader twins, who couldn't get the timing right. Either way, Quinn loved every minute of it. She never would've thought that teaching was in her blood (she left that to the sensitive types, like Finn Hudson), but there was something satisfying about passing down what she knew to other people.

As always, they ended their dance class with a freestyle session, before letting the kids go on their way. Quinn hoisted her dance bag on her shoulder and just as she was about to bounce over to Mike, her phone started to ring. Grabbing it from the side pocket of her bag, she slid her finger across the screen and quickly held it up to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Quinn!" a bubbly, energetic voice came through the speaker and without any announcement, she knew it had to be Rachel Berry.

"Hey, Rach. I'm just about to leave dance," Quinn explained.

"I'll be quick, I promise. You and Mike are coming over for dinner tonight," Rachel said authoritatively.

"Way to spring the information on us, Berry. Any particular reason why?"

"Other than the fact that we haven't seen you in ages? Come on, Quinn, we miss you!"

"I'll ask Mike if he's free,"

Rachel scoffed over the phone and Quinn knew she was rolling her eyes. "You two are attached at the hip, I swear. Anyway, just text me to let me know and I'll see you guys later. Love you!" with an abrupt click, she hung up, leaving Quinn to chuckle at her friend's absolute disregard and obliviousness to other people's plans.

"We're invited to dinner at Rachel and Kurt's tonight," Quinn announced as soon as Mike was within earshot. They turned off the lights at the studio and walked out into the cool evening air.

"Ooh, lucky us!" he joked. "Any reason why?"

Quinn smirked, hailing down a cab with ease. "She says they miss us," she shrugged, sliding into the bright yellow car. Mike followed her and their bodies lurched forward slightly, as the cab driver wove in and out of city traffic.

"Which means Kurt is free from Vogue tonight?"

"Probably," Quinn chuckled, as the cab came to a stop in front of her apartment building. They split the bill for the taxi and slid out together. "Anyway, they invited us over in about an hour. Do you just want to get dressed at my place?"

"I thought I cleaned out all my clothes from your place already," Mike wondered aloud, following Quinn into the elevator.

She opened her front door and tossed her things onto the nearby couch, heading straight for the fridge. "No. You say you will, but you never do. So now I've got a nice little wardrobe for Mike Chang, all set up in my closet," she teased, tossing him a bottle of Gatorade.

"That's nice. You can go sit in there if you ever miss me,"

"Why would I go sit in your _closet_?"

Mike shrugged, taking a long gulp of Gatorade. "There's a joke in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it. Can I shower first?" he asked.

She nodded and left him to it – after being friends for so long, she knew he'd have no trouble finding what he needed. Instead, she pulled out some leftover funfetti cake (from a baking impulse she had had at 3 AM one time) and started in on it, stabbing pieces with a fork.

She had spent the whole day, going back and forth between telling Mike the truth about Sam and Tina, and keeping it quiet. So far, she couldn't bring herself to do it. _'Besides, it's not my place to say anything. Sam and Tina should be the ones to explain,'_ Quinn thought. _'And aside from my gut feeling and seeing them hold hands once…I have no proof.'_

* * *

When they stepped into Rachel and Kurt's apartment later that night, they found themselves in the midst of an absolute frenzy. Smoke was coming out of the oven, a pot was overflowing on the stove, and a blender was still running, obviously forgotten. Kurt was nowhere to be found, but Rachel was shrieking at the top of her lungs – although she wasn't exactly doing anything to stop the disaster in the kitchen.

"Rachel, _move_!" Mike sprang into action, grabbing the small brunette and shoving her out of the way, as he quickly turned off the blender, the stove, and opened the oven. "What the hell is going on? Where's Kurt?"

"Santana and Brittany are talking to him," Rachel answered in a small voice.

Quinn crossed her arms and leaned against the wooden pillar separating the kitchen and living room, an amused look across her face. "Why?"

"They're coaching him, because…" she stopped herself, as if she was about to reveal some big secret. "He has an audition,"

"Bullshit," Mike scoffed, sitting himself down at the dining table.

Rachel glared at him, as if daring him to challenge what she had said. "What are we going to do about dinner?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Let's go out," Quinn suggested. "There's a nice Italian restaurant that's not too expensive about a block away,"

"I am so sick of Italian. All that bread? No thanks," a familiar voice interrupted the kitchen conversation and Santana Lopez sauntered in. Dressed in a body-hugging mini dress and knee-high boots, her fingers were intertwined with Brittany's. "Hey, Fabray," she grinned, holding her arms out for a hug.

Quinn grinned back, running into Santana and Brittany and squeezing them tightly. "Auditions in New York?" she asked Brittany.

"Yeah. My flight home is tomorrow," Brittany led them over to the living room where they all settled in comfortably.

"Do you guys want drinks? I have wine," Rachel offered. Brittany nodded and got up to help, just as Kurt walked out of his bedroom.

"Let's just order pizza. They won't mind, will they?"

"They just got to the city, I think they'll eat just about anything," Rachel chuckled. Mike looked over his shoulder at Quinn, his eyebrows raised in confusion and a look passed between them. But before he could ask who they were talking about, the doorbell rang and Kurt skidded across the floor to answer it.

"Hi,"

Quinn saw Mike's eyes widen in shock and fear, and she strained to see who it was at the door. But with Kurt blocking the way, she only saw them as they walked in – and her heart sunk.

Tina. Blaine. Sam.

She counted them off in her head, each one entering the apartment hesitantly. When Sam came in last, she felt the air leave her chest and if it hadn't been for the sofa she was sitting on, Quinn was sure she would've fainted. Instead, she shot a panicked look over at Mike, telepathically telling him that she needed to get out of the apartment fast, but he was still too shocked to move. To Quinn's horror, everybody else seemed to be perfectly fine with having Tina, Sam, and Blaine settle down to make themselves comfortable. They sat at the dining table, filling up the chairs that were once empty and Quinn bristled slightly, her stare locked on Sam's back. Covered by a thin, white V-neck shirt, the fabric seemed to pull tight across his muscles and when he moved his arms, they rippled and flexed.

She had to leave. Immediately.

"So how do you guys like the Big Apple?" Santana asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen.

"It's great!" Tina quipped, flipping her hair over one shoulder. Quinn saw Mike lean forward eagerly and she knew – any hopes she had for leaving early were dashed, just by one expression on Mike Chang's face. "It's such a rush being here. I've got to get a job, though," she groaned, propping her chin in the palm of her hand, as she rested against the table.

"Well, we're always looking for more bartenders," Santana offered with a smirk.

Rachel held up her hand in protest. "Somehow, I don't think Tina is cut out to work at Coyote Ugly," she wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste.

"Oh, don't be mad that they don't let Hobbits into the establishment," Santana sneered, before turning to the rest of the group. "Did you know little Miss Barbara Streisand got carded?"

The apartment filled with laughter and for a split second, Quinn believed she could actually get through the night without throwing up or running out in fear. Her shoulders began to relax and the self-righteous part of her conscience kicked in.

There weren't a lot of people who had a group of friends like she did. They were lucky and blessed to have found one another in high school – and even luckier that they managed to stay so close, despite the distance (not to mention the number of times they had dated each other's exes). Quinn surveyed the room quickly, trying to commit each face to a memory. There was Mike, obviously, who was her other half. Kurt and Rachel, who were both over the top and crazy, but still so loyal – she knew they would go to the ends of the earth for her. Then there was Santana and Brittany, who were the strongest and fiercest girls she had ever known. Blaine and Tina had been there for her during some of the harder times in high school and Quinn knew there were a whole slew of her friends who were with them in thought – scattered over the East and West coast, trying to make their dreams come true.

And then there was Sam Evans.

"Okay, I ordered the pizza. It should be here in a few minutes," Kurt announced, his voice bringing Quinn out of her thoughts. "In the meantime, let's watch a movie!" he clapped his hands together excitedly.

"Yeah, let's do that," Quinn added, grateful for the suggestion. _'Movies are good. People are quiet during movies. No talking, no eye contact…thank you, Kurt!' _she thought.

There was a scramble between Rachel, Kurt, Brittany, and Blaine towards the DVD stand, each of them picking out their favourite movies. They gathered around the coffee table in the living room and Quinn grabbed Mike so that he sat next to her. She felt a little bit of her nerves start to slip away and when the group started to talk over one another, Quinn felt a comfortable ease settle over.

"We're watching _Dirty Dancing_ and that's final!" Rachel exclaimed, grabbing the DVD out of Kurt's hands and stalking over to the TV.

Suddenly, Quinn felt herself stiffen and the comfortable ease she had felt earlier completely disappeared. Without wanting to, her eyes skimmed over the group to Sam, who had taken up a space on the floor near Tina, who was perched in an armchair. She saw his shoulders tense and he ran a hand through his hair – she knew exactly how he felt in that moment. Quinn made a move to get up, but Mike's firm grip on her arm pulled her back down.

"Sit. Everybody's going to notice if you just get up and walk out," he whispered through gritted teeth. Quinn turned her head to face him, a pained expression etched across her face.

"You don't get it. It's this movie," she whispered back.

Mike raised his eyebrows at her. "What, you hate Swayze? Suck it up," he rolled his eyes and leaned back into the couch, effectively ending the conversation.

Quinn sighed and stole another quick glance at Sam, who was busy trying to get comfortable against the armchair he was leaning against. Her heartbeat sped up in anticipation, until it finally caught in her throat, and his gaze met hers for the first time since she saw him in New York. The moment clung in the air like a thick fog and stole her breath, years and years of memories rushing back into her mind. But as quickly as the moment came, it left, swept away by the crushing realization that came when Tina draped her arm over Sam's shoulder and her fingertips curled around the ends of his hair.

He belonged to someone else this time.

* * *

It was an hour into the movie when it happened. The instrumental parts started first and Rachel made a point to tell everybody to shut up, because it was one of the most iconic film moments in history. Quinn felt it build in her stomach and as the scene played out on the screen and deep down, she knew she wasn't going to be able to handle it. It brought up too many memories, too many recollections that she had kept away for a long, long time. Just as the music was starting to swell and she heard the same, familiar first lines start, Quinn jumped up, thankful that everybody else was too engrossed in the movie to notice her sudden movement. Stepping lightly around them, she found the window and climbed up onto the fire escape, hurriedly making her way towards the roof.

The night air was cool and bit into her bare arms. She scolded herself for not grabbing her jacket before she came out onto the roof. As usual, there were no stars, but the city stretched for miles and miles in front of her. Buildings rose high into the sky and people, who looked like ants from this high up, scurried on the sidewalks. Quinn briefly wondered where they were going or where they were running away from. _'Or maybe it's a person? A ghost of someone they thought wouldn't come back again –'_

"Damn it!"

The sudden outburst made Quinn jump, whirling around and nearly falling on her butt. "What the hell?" she murmured, trying to make out the figure that was now half limping, half walking towards her. "Mike?"

"No, although I'm sure you wish it was,"

Quinn staggered back slightly, the realization of who it was finally hitting her. That deep, familiar Southern drawl, the one that only got stronger when he was annoyed or mad, that same voice all those years ago that blended so perfectly with hers…

"Sam?"

"Hey," he mumbled breathlessly, sitting himself down on an old crate. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and looked up at her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,"

"I wasn't scared,"

"Sure you weren't,"

"I wasn't," she insisted. "I just thought you were someone else,"

"Right. You thought I was Mike," Sam leaned back on his hands and looked up at her accusingly, his head cocked to one side. She bristled under his gaze, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were alone on an empty rooftop – and it was far too close for comfort.

"So what if I did?" she shot back, marvelling at the way her voice was calm and steady, despite the nerves that shook her.

Sam shrugged, turning to face the empty sky. His gaze fell over the twinkling lights of the city and for a minute, silence fell between them. Littered only by the sound of cars and people's distant voices, the rooftop was quiet and Quinn shifted uncomfortably underneath it all. Quiet was bad – it only meant that they'd have more time to choose their words carefully.

"Have you seen Dirty Dancing since?" Sam asked, not looking at her. _'Since? Since when? Since that night in the motel? Since high school? Since us?'_ Quinn thought frantically.

"Yeah, all the time," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"You've watched it all the way until the end?" Sam snorted. "Because the way you ran out back there…seems like you do that a lot,"

"What, run?" Quinn gulped, trying to swallow in as much air as she could. It caught in her throat and she was just about to cough, when she noticed Sam chuckling softly. Not wanting to be left out, she asked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Everything,"

This time, it was Quinn who cocked her head to one side, trying to figure him out. Sam in New York was different than the Sam she knew in Lima. There were parts of him that were still the same – the impressions, the superhero references, and the lean, athletic body. But other parts, the not so distinct parts, were different. The ever-present smirk, that damn chuckle, and this sudden wisdom and maturity that followed him wherever he went. It was unsettling and endearing and Quinn was trying to figure out how that could be.

She took a step back and tried to put a little distance between herself and the Sam she once knew. He noticed, of course, and smirked, again. But nothing - not even having a private conversation with the one person who knew every little crevice of her personality and heart on an abandoned rooftop – could prepare her for what came out of his mouth next.

"So, how long have you and Mike been together?"


	3. Chapter 3: Storm Warning

**Hey y'all! Well, you guys gave me such awesome feedback and such kind words for my last chapter that I thought I'd put this one up a little early as a present. :) I am having SO much fun writing this fic and I love that you guys have decided to hop on for the ride, too. Much love.**

**Anyway, last chapter, you saw Sam ask if Quinn and Mike are dating. You'll get to see a little bit of a fall-out here, some fun Quinn/Rachel interaction, and hopefully you'll like it!**

**Enjoy, read, and please leave a little review to satisfy my writer heart. :P**

**Xoxo.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Storm Warning**

_I'm gonna wish I had a storm warning,  
I'm gonna wish I had a sign.  
I'm gonna wish I had a little heads up,  
Little lee-way, little more time.  
Some kind of radar system,  
Locked in on love.  
I got a feeling by the time the night finds the morning,  
I'm gonna wish I had a storm warning.  
_

Quinn paced back and forth in front of the mirrors that lined the front wall of the dance studio. Her bare feet hardly made any sounds on the hardwood floor and the only music that filled the room was from her own mouth, humming to an old Madonna song. She was just about to start another length of the room, when the heavy door opened and fell shut with a loud bang, causing Quinn to jump slightly.

"Sorry I'm late! This girl had a seizure while I was waiting for the subway and I couldn't _not_ help her, so I missed the train," Mike flew into the studio at warp speed, flinging his bag across the floor towards the corner, where it slammed against the wall. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Quinn chuckled. "Class doesn't start for another twenty minutes,"

Mike sighed, running a hand through his already sweaty hair and plopped down on the floor. "Idiot," he muttered to himself under his breath. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"My seminar was cancelled," Quinn shrugged. Mike nodded and moved to get the chairs from the other end of the studio. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

With a grunt, Mike lifted the stacked chairs off the little raised platform and set them on the floor. "Sure, just help me arrange these for the class, since you spaced and didn't do it when you got here," he chuckled, his tone of voice light and easy.

"Sorry," Quinn murmured, giving him a soft smile before moving to take a stack of chairs. They worked silently for a while, arranging them in rows to use later, when they introduced props into their dance routine for the kids.

"You wanted to talk?" Mike prompted, after several seconds of silence.

Quinn sighed and dropped the last chair into place, sitting on it and motioning Mike to do the same. She curled up comfortably, her feet tucked underneath her like a cat. "Okay, so, at Rachel and Kurt's the other night…"

"Yeah, what was up with that? When you came back, you were in some weird sort of trance,"

"I talked to Sam," she muttered, her eyes cast downward to avoid her best friend's gaze. But Mike knew her too well and after several moments, she heard him scoot closer to her. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear affectionately, before bringing her face up to meet him.

"What happened? Did he hurt you?"

At that, Quinn laughed bitterly. _'Of course he's hurt me. More than once, more than twice. We do that to each other,' _she thought, choking back tears. "No, he didn't hurt me. We just talked. He's…different. New York Sam is different,"

"He's bound to be, Q. The city changes people, you know that,"

"Yeah, but not…not Sam. He's not supposed to change,"

Mike frowned, pulling away slightly to examine Quinn's face. "You make it sound like he's a whole new person – as far as I know, Sam Evans is still the same, goofy guy I knew in high school,"

Quinn winced at his biting tone. Of course he would be defensive – they might have been best friends all their life, but Mike and Sam were best bros. "I didn't mean it like that, it's just…" she faltered at finding the right words.

"It's just that what?"

"Mike, don't be mad. I just think there's a lot more under the surface. I mean, have you talked to him since he's gotten to the city?"

"He's a big boy, Quinn. He doesn't need someone to check in on him,"

She sighed, wondering when it got to be so difficult to just reason with her best friend. "Maybe there are things you don't know," she said quietly.

"Like what?" he demanded, getting up from his seat. "I get that you're freaked out about Sam being in the same city as you, but Quinn…he's just your ex. He's like Finn and Puck, like Chris and whatever pretentious loser you choose to date from your psych class. Sam deserves to be in New York, so you need to get used to that,"

Quinn shrunk back at Mike's words and the blood in her veins ran cold with anger (and fear, but she couldn't let herself think of that). "How is it any different than you being affected now that Tina's around?" she snapped, pushing off the chair and stalking towards him.

"Because I don't let Tina get to me,"

"Bullshit," Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "We've seen them twice and you had that faraway, pining, yearning, desperate look in your eyes _both_ times!" her voice raised several decibels, reverberating against the mirrors of the studio.

"I still love her!"

Quinn opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn't think of a combination of words she could say that didn't sound like, _"I still love Sam." _Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and threw a steely gaze at her so-called best friend.

"I wanted to tell you that Sam thinks you and I are dating," she said, through gritted teeth, clenching her fingers into small fists.

Mike stared at her, unmoving. His jaw hung slack and if they hadn't been arguing so fervently before, Quinn would've found his expression hilarious. "He thinks…that we…" he stammered and she let him babble for a while.

It was normal for people to think that Quinn and Mike were in a relationship. They spent all their time together, they finished each other's sentences, and they even slept at each other's apartments from time to time. Defending their friendship came with the territory of having a best friend of the opposite sex. But it still never managed to amaze, baffle, or amuse them whenever someone insisted that they were dating – they had never felt that way for each other.

"What did you tell him?" Mike's voice cut through the room, his head finally looking up to meet Quinn's gaze.

"I told him we weren't dating," she shrugged.

"And then?"

Quinn took a deep breath, pushing herself off the mirrored walls she was leaning against. The previous night flashed brightly and briefly in her mind, like lightning. She had turned away from Sam, literally avoiding him until she heard his footsteps grow faint in the night. When she had finally built up the courage to turn around again, he was gone.

"And then we went our separate ways, Mike."

* * *

The city was especially windy that day, blowing up leaves and nipping at every inch of bare skin it could find. Across the road, Quinn's shoulder-length blonde hair whipped at her cheeks and she struggled to keep her skirt down around her knees. She bounced from foot to foot, trying to regain some of the heat she had lost from walking, and as the traffic light turned red, Quinn scurried past the stopped cars.

"Hey! Sorry, dance class ran a little late," she said breathlessly, reaching around the petite brunette's shoulders to open the doors to the coffee shop.

"It's okay, let's just go in. It's freezing!" Rachel laughed. They ducked inside and shrugged off their jackets and scarves, before making a straight line for the couches in the back.

Quinn plopped down, grabbing one of the café's complimentary cookies off the table, and bit into it forcefully. "How was rehearsal?" she asked, letting the soft chocolate coat the inside of her mouth.

"Tough, but worth it," Rachel grinned, getting the waiter's attention. They quickly ordered and made small talk for the next few minutes, sipping their drinks in unison.

Back in high school, nobody would've ever thought that Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry would end up being best friends. But somewhere along the way, they managed to find a happy balance between two different personalities and now, they were chasing down different dreams in the same city. Quinn knew New York was Rachel's city, but together, they had conquered it like they did high school and Glee club – separately at first, then together.

"How's Mike?" Rachel asked, putting her coffee on the table and pulling out a small pot of lip balm. She twisted open the cap and coated her lips meticulously.

"He's alright," Quinn shrugged in response. "We got into a fight today,"

Rachel chuckled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Whatever it was about, I'm sure you guys will get over it. You're inseparable,"

Quinn nodded, mulling over her friend's words. It was true, in a way. There wasn't much that she and Mike hadn't weathered together. And even in their biggest blow-outs, they managed to find a way to overcome it. But she knew this fight or disagreement or heated discussion – whatever you wanted to call it – wasn't the same. "It was about Sam,"

She saw Rachel stop, right in between reaching for her coffee and opening her mouth. Her eyes turned to look at Quinn, inquisitive and curious. "Sam?" she repeated.

"Yeah. He thought…he thought Mike and I were dating," Quinn intercepted her mouth with a sip of her tea, hoping for some sort of an interruption. She didn't want to tell Rachel any more, but the twinkling look in her eyes meant she was searching for a proper explanation.

"Did that make him jealous? It shouldn't. If it were true, which it obviously isn't. You would think Sam, of all people, would understand that. You guys dated a long time ago, but that doesn't mean he should still be hung up on it, right?" Rachel rattled off, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

Quinn nodded along, but internally, she silently wished the floor of the café would open up and swallow her whole. _'Why did I think telling Rachel was a good idea?'_ she thought, her stomach twisting. _'I should have just kept my mouth shut and not mentioned Sam at all,'_

"Even if you were dating Mike, it's sort of not his business, right? Just because he's single doesn't mean he has the right to – oh, Sam!" Rachel's voice halted into a screech and Quinn nearly tipped her tea over at the sound of his name. She stumbled forward slightly, fumbling to put the cup back onto the table, but when she looked up, she wished she had taken the time to crawl underneath it, instead.

Sam, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black polo shirt, had one arm slung over Tina's shoulders comfortably. To everybody else, they could've looked like best friends hanging out – ironically enough, they could've passed for a different version of Mike and Quinn.

"Hey, guys," Tina waved, leaning against the back of the couch. She leaned down to give Rachel a hug and smiled at Quinn.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We were just checking out Broadway, thought we'd do a little sightseeing. And then I really needed my caffeine fix," Tina explained, looking longingly over at the rows of coffee beans that lined the counter. "I get weird without it," she laughed.

Rachel nodded in understanding. "Well, you came to the right place," she smiled happily.

Quinn's fingers clenched into fists and she held them tightly at her side. He was just across from her, close enough to touch and close enough to run away from, but her body did neither – instead, she stole quick little glances at him and saw flickers of the old and the new Sam. A smirk, a smile, a soft chuckle, a raised eyebrow; and they all hit a little corner of her heart, one that had been forgotten about a long time ago.

"Sam's not as nuts about coffee as me, though," Tina's voice cut through Quinn's thoughts like a shard of glass and the blonde looked up, irritated beyond belief. "Anyway, we'll see you guys around, yeah? We should do dinner again sometime," Tina grinned at both of them.

"We really should," Rachel said earnestly.

Quinn offered a tight smile, narrowing her eyes when she saw Tina grab Sam's arm to lead him towards the counter. Before her brain could even comprehend what was happening, she blurted out,

"They have sweet tea."

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, a corner of his mouth already curled into an easy smile. A look passed between them –one that was reminiscent of stolen moments and hushed conversations over the phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tina frown, but Quinn was too distracted to acknowledge it; she was too busy feeling a rush of color flood her cheeks and – seriously, was she actually _blushing_?

Quinn turned away, her heart hammering in her chest. The tension hung thick in the air and as soon as Tina led them away, Quinn felt the immediate absence of Sam Evans – like his shadow had been left behind, instead. She knew she shouldn't have said those four words. Four words, that reminded them all (except maybe Rachel, who had gone back to sipping her coffee obliviously) of the past – of what had once happened. Four words that were a slap in the face to someone, his current girlfriend, the one who was holding his hand possessively, clamping her palm against his. But Quinn couldn't – didn't – care. She had been there first and she had intertwined her fingers with his first and she would always be _his _first.

She'd be damned if anybody forgot that.

* * *

Later that night, as a heavy storm rumbled her apartment building, Quinn grabbed her mug of tea and headed for her living room couch. She flopped onto it unceremoniously, moving aside loose pieces of paper to make room for herself. The rain rattled her windows, but Quinn just snuggled further into her couch, a content smile on her face. She had always loved the city under rain, had always loved the way it looked after, shiny and brand new, like a penny. Tonight, she was especially grateful for being alone. There had been several invitations, but she declined them all. Instead, Quinn was comforting herself with some of her most faded and worn psychology textbooks, a little bit of 90's music in the background, and her most slept-in pajamas.

Tonight, she was unwinding.

And it felt like she had to, for once. As a dancer, Quinn was fluid in her movements, slicing through the air with grace and softness. She worked that way off the floor, too – her voice was melodic, the way she walked made it look like she was floating on air, and Rachel even said that the way Quinn flipped her hair looked like it was happening in slow motion. But with "the ex" (and yes, she had to say it like that) back in town, she was edgy and jumpy and twitchy all the time. When she and Rachel had left the coffee shop on Broadway, Quinn spent every step and turn darting her eyes around to look for that familiar head of hair. _'It's not fair that I have to walk on eggshells. It's my city, I was here first,'_ she thought selfishly. _'And why haven't they told anybody that they're obviously dating?'_

"Why are they even dating in the first place?!" Quinn exclaimed loudly, kicking the wool blanket off her legs. She heard something hit her carpet and she groaned, noticing that her cell phone had somehow landed on the floor. She grabbed it, holding it in the palm of her hand for a while – for a split second, she contemplated calling someone. Mike, Rachel, Santana, Kurt…Sam?

"No, Fabray," she scolded herself. Moving to place the phone on the table behind her, she startled when the message tone rang.

_Sweet tea, huh?_

Quinn screamed. She was lucky there was ample space between her and her neighbors, because if anybody had heard it, they would've thought someone had been murdered. And yet, it felt that way for her – she felt a knife twist into stomach and she stared at the screen lifelessly. It had to be Sam. Even if they had never exchanged numbers, there was only one person it could be, and…

_It's Sam, by the way. _

Well, there it was. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of his name, as if seeing it typed out meant he was more real. It was different this time – this time, he knew exactly what he was doing. There was some sort of arrogance to his tone of voice, even over text messages that consisted of only five words. Steeling herself and muttering a silent prayer, her shaking fingers started to type out a reply.

_What's wrong with sweet tea?_

_Nothing, if you like it. _

_I do like it._

_I just remember you being a big fan of coffee before, that's all._

Quinn hesitated, her thoughts running wild. Before…what, exactly? Him? New York?

_I still drink coffee. People change._

_Yeah, tell me about it._

_Well, you should know._

She winced, wondering if her words had come off too harsh and too accusing. But it was true, after all. Sam was staggeringly different to her now and it was about time he knew. Still, the thought didn't ease her mind and Quinn stared at the phone, willing for it to buzz. If he didn't reply, it meant she had struck a nerve. If he did -

_Yeah, I would know. So, it looks like you and Mike aren't dating. I asked him. Guess I missed the mark on that one._

_Yeah, guess so._

_Sorry about that. For assuming, I mean. You guys have always been close._

_Why would it bother you if Mike and I were dating?_

_Who said it'd bother me? It doesn't. It wouldn't. Y'all deserve to be happy._

Quinn smiled a little at that. Not because it was reminiscent of the old Sam Evans, but because he was lying. Sam was considerate and giving and kind, but he was selfish when it came to love. Her hopes rose slightly, until her phone buzzed again, indicating she received another text message.

_Besides, I'm happy._

"Oh, fuck off," Quinn rolled her eyes, the moment vanishing into thin air. She stared at her phone, willing it to type out its own reply; there was no way she'd be able to piece together a coherent sentence now. Part of her knew she should be mature – take the high road, let it slide off her shoulders. But a bigger part, the stubborn part, wanted him to be unhappy and bitter and all the things she was in the face of moving to a new city, in the face of starting a new life.

Quinn noticed that Mike had texted her, but she ignored it. Instead, her eyes burned as they bore a hole into the conversation she was having with Sam, every inch of her body willing her fingers to type out a reply. A flash of lightning illuminated her small apartment and the thunder that followed shook the windows dangerously, and Quinn found a poetic comfort in the rain that pelted against her building. There was a raging storm outside and now, staring at the three-word text message from Sam Evans – there was a raging storm in her, too.


	4. Chapter 4: Case of the Ex

**I'm back! :) Thanks for all the kind words you guys gave me for the last chapter - really appreciate it. **

**That being said, hopefully this next chapter will be satisfying. There's a lot more Sam/Quinn interaction and some nice moments with the whole gang. :)**

**Enjoy, read, and review, please! :)**

**Xoxo.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Case of the Ex  
**

_How you gonna act? How you gonna handle that?  
What you goin' do when she wants you back?  
_

She was vaguely aware of someone standing over her. She could feel whoever it was block the sunlight that usually trickled through her curtains, she felt heir heat coat her body, but most of all, she heard the breathing. It came in short puffs, as if the person had just run up a flight of stairs and needed time to get their heart rate back to normal. She sniffed the air; her eyes still shut, and smelled a familiar mix of sweat, soap, and Hugo Boss.

"Mike?" Quinn cracked open an eyelid, snuggling even further into her sheets.

"Get. Up."

The words came out slow, calculated, and vengeful. They cut through the air like a knife and Quinn only managed to snap her eyes open for a split second, before her bedcovers were yanked away and she felt the cold pierce her bones. She screamed and kicked, the bottom of her foot connecting satisfyingly with Mike's hard-as-rock abs.

"Stop!" she cried.

"We're going for a run. Get dressed," he tapped her affectionately on the butt twice, before walking out. Quinn rolled over, breathing heavily into her pillow, until her own carbon dioxide started to beat back into her face. With a big sigh, she flipped onto her back and reached for her phone. Opening her message, her heart immediately twisted at the sight of the conversation left open with Sam. She had never replied and he had never prompted a reply, so she had done the mature thing – she stuffed her phone in the crevice between her mattress and bed.

"Quinn!"

Mike's voice travelled from the kitchen straight into her room and she cursed at him under her breath. Rolling out of bed, Quinn padded over to find her gym shorts and a tank top, slipping on both in nearly one motion. Lacing up her running shoes, she grabbed her iPod off her dresser and jogged out to the kitchen. Mike threw her a water bottle and without another word, motioned for her to follow him out the apartment.

It was a crisp morning, some of the leaves falling off the branches to litter the pavements with bright colors. Around them, young couples brought their kids out on brisk walks, other joggers took up space, and food carts were just beginning to open for the day. They passed one of their favourite coffee shops and Quinn nearly asked Mike if they could stop, but the tension in his shoulder blades told her otherwise. He was determined, ready, and focused – whether it was on a work out or on talking to Quinn, she wasn't entirely sure. A part of her hoped it wasn't the latter.

They reached the park in record time and Mike glanced at her briefly, nodding his head to tell her to warm up. Quinn stretched her legs and jogged in place for a few seconds, plugging in her earphones. Before she could settle on a song, Mike had started, his long legs pumping, his feet hitting the ground rhythmically. She jogged slightly behind him, keeping at her own pace.

After several minutes, Mike began to slow down and Quinn sped up, the burn in her legs turning into a comfortable, welcoming ache. Her blonde hair was already falling out of her high ponytail and stuck to the back of her neck, but she kept going – there was a comfort and romanticism in running (although the sweat would tell you otherwise).

"Quinn," a muffled voice filtered through Katrina and the Waves playing on her iPod and she ripped out her earphones. Head turned, she saw Mike pull up next to her, repeating her name.

"Yeah?" she said, breathlessly.

"We need to talk. Slow it down," he pulled back to a light jog and Quinn followed suit. Together, they fell into step and she pressed pause on her music. "I'm sorry about the other day,"

"It's okay," she said automatically. _'It is okay. It's not his fault – Sam's always been my problem,'_ Quinn added in her thoughts.

Mike sighed. "It's not. I was out of line and I should've been more understanding," he grunted as they worked their way up a small hill. "You and Sam had a really intense history and I guess…sorry,"

Quinn shrugged, unsure of what to say next. Instead, she gave him a comforting smile and kept silent, hoping that the subject of Sam Evans would be dropped.

"I don't want to fight about Sam. But he's still my bro and you're my best friend, but he's also your ex, so trying to navigate the waters is a little rough right now," he puffed.

"God, you really suck at running and talking at the same time. An at-sea reference? Really?"

"So sue me, Fabray. I was trying to be poetic,"

"Pathetic," she countered, a genuine grin creeping up her lips. Turning to face him, she saw he was chuckling and just like that, all was right with the world. The friction between them disappeared and Quinn pumped her legs harder, suddenly overcome with a newfound energy. She hated fighting with her best friend – the last time it happened, they were so out of sync that she kicked him right in the eyebrow, while doing one of their complicated dance routines. The emergency room had been their make-up place and this time, it was the park.

"I'll race you?" Mike panted, his eyebrows raised.

"I'll win," she laughed.

Mike shrugged, nudging her shoulder with his. After a few seconds, Quinn nodded in response and they started to race. She sprinted, her long legs cycling rhythmically and her blonde hair falling out of her ponytail, into the wind. There was a manic and a clarity that came with running – it was something a little less rigid than ballet, but a lot more disciplined than modern dance and although it took her forever to actually run regularly, Quinn always counted on Mike (who was a workout freak) to keep her at the top of her game.

As they neared the finish line – the swing sets, of course – she propelled herself forward with one last push, before collapsing dramatically on the sand below the swings.

"You're…a…cheater," Mike panted, bending over to place his hands on his knees. He breathed heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Quinn chuckled weakly, fidgeting in the sand. "I'm just faster," she pulled herself up onto her elbows, lifting her face to the bright sun. It warmed her skin, kissing every bare part of her. She felt the sweat seep into her bones and as Mike sat on the swing beside her; she couldn't help the lazy smile that spread across her lips.

"Remember the night after our dance exam?" he asked and Quinn nodded immediately, a giggle escaping her lips. "We were still dressed in our dance clothes – you looked more ridiculous than I did, in your tutu – and we bought wine coolers and got drunk in the park,"

"You fell off the jungle gym and I got sand in my leotard!" Quinn exclaimed, the memory coming back to her in vivid flashes. It hit her like it had happened just yesterday, stumbling across the park in an erratic path, their fingers gripped around wine coolers.

That night, they celebrated passing their dance exams, but it was more than that – they were also celebrating being free and alive in the greatest city in the world. That was the night Mike and Quinn swore to do whatever it took to make their dreams come true, to reach for what they wanted. As Mike had so eloquently put it that night, they vowed, "to make New York City their bitch."

"I think that's night I fell in love with all this," Mike murmured, staring out at the park that sprawled in front of them. The lush greenery seemed to stretch for miles, only to be stopped by breath-taking skyscrapers. There was the smell of pretzels and wet grass in the air, and Quinn heard the distant bell of a bicycle in the distance.

"How could you not fall in love with that view?" Quinn mused. She squinted into the morning sun, watching runners and nannies with strollers and couples walk along the path. _'And each of them have their own story…or they have stories waiting to be written…and is that Sam Evans?!' _her thoughts screamed at her, as she registered the familiar head of blonde hair jogging towards them. Panicking, her elbows slipped against the sand as she struggled to sit upright.

"Um, 12 o'clock. Ex-boyfriend alert," Mike said, under his breath. She rolled her eyes at him and managed to stand up, going to sit on the swing next to him.

"Don't say anything about what I told you about us dating, okay?"

"You mean how you want to date me because I'm ridiculously hot?" Mike joked, nudging his swing seat against hers. Quinn half-growled, half-grunted in response, wondering briefly why she ever thought being friends with Mike Chang was a good decision.

He was approaching them, faster and faster. Quinn recognized his basketball shorts – black, with the small Nike logo in one corner; maybe it was the one with a rip in the waistband that she once fixed with a pink safety pin as a joke. She recognized the iPod strapped to his bare bicep – she had given him the little pouch it was held in. As Sam came closer and closer, Quinn felt every piece of him, every memory, and it hit her like shards of glass piercing her skin.

"Hey,"

He was out of breath, but didn't show it. Instead, he pulled his foot back to stretch and Quinn was granted a full-on view of his muscles flexing. She could hear a faint hip-hop beat coming from his earphones that dangled around his neck and she could feel his gaze on him, as if waiting for her to say something. She didn't.

"Hey, man," Mike answered.

"So, you guys run here, too?"

"Practically every Saturday. Unless we're hung-over or something," Mike chuckled and Quinn managed to faintly smile.

Sam chuckled and leaned against the swing set structure, trying to untangle his earphones. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Only if we actually have energy to go out,"

"Or if Santana drags us out," Quinn added, under her breath.

She saw Sam's head snap towards her – as if hearing her voice was what he had wanted all along. "Why would Santana drag you out?"

Quinn's eyes darted from Sam to Mike in a slight panic. Realizing it was ridiculous for her to stay quiet throughout the entire exchange, she said, "She works at a bar and sometimes she lets us hang out there for free. No IDs, no payment, just free drinks and an empty bar after closing hours,"

"Sounds like fun," he grinned.

"It is," Mike nodded. "In fact, we're…"

He was interrupted by the unmistakable twang of a country song – _'Blake Shelton,'_ Quinn thought. Sure enough, Sam pulled out his cell phone and mumbled a quick apology to them, before holding it up to his ear. He walked several feet away for some privacy and Quinn decided it was the perfect time to whack Mike against his arm.

"What was that for?!" he squealed.

"You were going to invite him to Santana's!" she hissed.

"Yeah, so?"

"He'll probably bring Tina! And he's underage!"

Mike scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Firstly, I'm hoping that he _will _bring Tina. Secondly, we're all underage. Stop being weird," he whispered the last part, as Sam made his way back towards them.

"Sorry, that was Tina. She woke up and realized I was gone. She gets that way sometimes," he shrugged nonchalantly. Quinn felt Mike immediately stiffen at Sam's comments – something about them felt too personal and out of place, especially in front of her ex-boyfriend. Noticing that he had been rendered speechless and his thoughts were probably spinning out of control, Quinn decided to interfere.

"You and Tee should come to Santana's tonight," she sighed. "Everybody will be there,"

It was weak reasoning, but it worked. Sam grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically, telling them that both he and Tina would definitely be there. Then, after his phone started to buzz again, he waved goodbye and left, jogging out of the park. Quinn watched him leave, admiring the way his muscles rippled underneath his wife beater. Clearly, their years apart had served him well.

Switching focus, Quinn looked to her side and saw Mike, resting his elbows on his knees. By the way his brow was furrowed, she could tell he was deep in thought about something and she nudged her swing seat against his, trying to get his attention.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"Why are you freaking out?"

Mike drew in a breath and let it out slowly, shakily. "Did you hear how he said it? Like…like he knows what it's like when she wakes up,"

"Well, they live together,"

"No, it's different," he shook his head, standing up and pacing back and forth. His sneakers kicked up the sand in swirls around his ankles. "It's too…intimate," he shuddered.

"Mike, they're best friends," Quinn lied.

He stopped pacing, turning to face her, and for a split second, she contemplated telling him everything she thought to be true. "You don't think they're like…_dating_ or anything, do you?"

Quinn shrugged noncommittally. "Would it be the worst thing if they were?" she asked, although she knew the answer to that already – of course it was the worst thing, it'd be the ultimate betrayal, regardless of how many years they had spent apart. And not just for Sam and Quinn (whatever, whoever they were now), but especially for Mike and Tina.

"Yeah," he replied half-heartedly.

Quinn got up from where she sat and flung a comforting arm around his shoulders. He was two heads taller than she was, but it didn't matter, because she recognized that look in his eyes all too well. There was a resignation, a tired desperation that clouded Mike, and as much as she wanted to tell him the truth (or at least, what she thought was the truth), she knew it wasn't her place. And his growing suspicion of Sam and Tina's friendship wasn't going to help the situation, either.

They walked the rest of the way back in silence – Quinn holding on to her best friend's shoulders and Mike, holding her up.

* * *

"You invited the kids?"

"Santana, they're only a year younger,"

"They're still _kids_,"

The Latina hissed, as she puttered around the space behind the bar, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and a rag in the other. The place was busier than usual at seven o'clock on a Saturday night. People were lining up outside, while others resigned themselves to drinking at the high tables set up on the side of the road. Luckily, Santana had worked at the Phoenix long enough that her friends all got the special treatment.

"What is she so squinky about?" Rachel asked, her nose wrinkling, as she gingerly perched herself on a stool at the bar. She had never made any attempt to hide how she felt about Phoenix – it was always full of sleazy patrons – but since she had no other options for cheap alcohol…

"These two invited Sam and Tina," Kurt announced, gesturing towards Mike and Quinn, who were perfect replicas of each other – chins propped up on their hands, a wistful look in their eyes.

"Oh, fun!" Rachel squealed, clapping her hands together. "It'll be good to get everybody under the same roof,"

"We were all under the same roof last weekend. Don't you think we'd be sick of each other by now?" Mike grumbled.

Rachel rolled her eyes in response, leaning across the sticky bar top to get a waiter's attention. "Stop being such a grump. I thought you'd like hanging out with Tina,"

"I do, but I don't need to see my ex-girlfriend all the time. And I wouldn't have had to see her tonight, if this blabbermouth didn't go and invite _her_ ex-boyfriend," he jerked a thumb towards Quinn.

Her eyes widened and she straightened up, folding her arms across her chest. "You were going to invite them first!" she said indignantly.

"Quit fighting, you old married couple," Santana piped up suddenly, sliding into the conversation with ease. She handed Rachel a Cosmopolitan and quickly refilled the glasses of water they each had next to their drinks. "Anyway, I told the bouncer to let them in, so we're good. Hang out here, for a while, will you? There's a bachelor party that started way too early and we need to sober them up before they get nice and drunk again," she laughed, tossing the rag over her shoulder and sashaying towards the rowdy table in the back.

Mike tapped the rim of his beer to his lips, before taking a long sip. "She has the easiest job in the world," he commented.

"That's because she looks the way she does," Kurt chuckled, motioning for all of them to grab a booth that had just been emptied. The four of them settled in comfortably, with Rachel and Kurt in the middle. Almost immediately, a plate of nachos appeared before them and Mike sent a silent prayer to Santana, before stuffing his face with the chips.

Quinn knew he was in bad shape. As his best friend and better half, she knew he was hurting and confused. It wasn't that Mike didn't want to see Tina tonight – it was obvious that he always wanted to see her. But tonight, Quinn knew he needed more than just the sight of her. He needed an explanation and he needed answers, because the way Sam had said those words – "She woke up and realized I was gone. She gets that way sometimes," – it was as if he _knew_.

The thought was making Mike sick to his stomach.

But still, he shovelled the nachos into his mouth robotically, until Kurt gently pulled his wrist away from the plate. Mike just grunted in response and nursed his beer. Across the table, Quinn was quietly playing with the rim of her glass, her gaze flickering to the door every few seconds. _'How did we get here? Walking on eggshells just because our exes come back into our lives?'_ she thought bitterly.

"Hi, guys!"

The voice was familiar and it sent a shudder down Quinn's spine. Mike lifted his head and inwardly groaned – a vision in a black mini dress and her hair tumbling out of a sexy up do, Tina Cohen-Chang looked exactly like the girl he fell in love with in high school, except better. More mature, more wise, more…just more. It wasn't until his gaze travelled further down that his heart stopped – not from how beautiful she was (although she was, so, so beautiful) – but from her hands.

Quinn noticed the way Mike's eyes clouded over when his gaze landed on Tina – the reaction was instantaneous and almost frightening, how in tune they were with each other. She didn't know if that was the same reaction she had to seeing Sam, but she knew one thing was for sure. The way Mike's eyes darkened with anger meant one thing – he had clearly seen Tina's fingers reach out and interlace Sam's.

* * *

"And then, when I bend down to pick up the glass he broke, the creep goes and slaps my ass!" Santana exclaimed, knocking back the rest of her drink. "I mean, I know I'm a ten, but seriously – what a pig,"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't…you know. Put it out there," Kurt whispered, trying to be discreet, but failing miserably. His fingers wiggled at her and a giggle escaped his lips.

It was nearing half past one in the morning and they were all nearing full past drunk. The bar had shut down thirty minutes ago and Santana had happily snatched the keys from her boss, announcing that she would lock up tonight. Instead, she grabbed a few more bottles from the bar and squeezed herself into the already overflowing booth with the rest of her friends.

Quinn didn't know how it had happened, but she ended up between a loud, drunk Santana and a quiet, sheepish Tina. It always amused her how much more emphasized people got when they were drinking. Every little piece of their personality was magnified a thousand times more and when she stopped to think about it – not that she really could, everything was starting to get really fuzzy, really fast – they were still the same people, just _more_.

"Let's make a pact!" Rachel cried, reaching over the table to grab the vodka bottle by the neck. Her hand stopped halfway, her eyes growing wide, before she snapped back and started wriggling in her seat. "Wait, my phone's ringing! It's buzzing! It's _buzzing!_" she screamed.

Mike chuckled, helping Rachel pull her phone out of the pocket of her skinny jeans. "It's Finn," he said, staring down at the display picture.

"Gimme it!" Rachel lunged for the phone, but Mike dangled it high, away from her reach.

"No way. You're drunk and god knows what you're going to say to Finn,"

Kurt nodded in agreement. "We don't need another repeat of Sectionals in junior year,"

"Oh my god, let that go!" Rachel cried, somehow crawling onto her knees to reach the phone. _'If everybody is a magnified version of themselves, Rachel Berry is definitely more annoying,'_ Quinn thought, chuckling softly to herself.

"You can talk to your T-Rex boyfriend some other time," Santana said lazily, catching the phone with ease, as Mike threw it at her.

"Santana Lopez…"

"Bite me, Berry," the Latina slid her finger across the screen and held it up to her ear. "Hi, Finny! No, it's not Rachel…guess! Let me give you a clue – I'm the best sex you ever had,"

At that, Rachel lunged across the table, her small body flattening amongst all the bottles and glass. "Give it back!" she screeched.

"Santana, come on!" Mike half-laughed, half-scolded her, as he tried to control a wriggling Rachel.

The fight wore on for a while, but Quinn just sipped her drink quietly – her mood had plummeted the minute she saw Sam and Tina walk into the bar hand in hand. Surprisingly, Mike had managed to recover (he had always been the better actor) and Tina was the same as always. Nobody had asked about the hand-holding and again, Quinn now doubted it herself. After all, she and Mike held hands sometimes and it meant nothing.

'_It's different. Mike and I are different. Sam and Tina…they're different,'_ she thought bitterly. With Rachel still wriggling on the table and Santana making another lewd comment to Finn, Quinn almost didn't notice the flash of shaggy blonde hair that started sliding out of the booth. Her eyes tracked him; saw him as he struggled to get past Kurt, who was humming softly to himself.

"Outside?" Sam mouthed.

It caught Quinn by surprise – she had expected a dramatic turn-away, another one of those arrogant "New York Sam" smirks, or even just straight up ignorance, but she had never expected he would actually try something. Without knowing how, she felt her heartbeat pound against her bones and briefly, she wondered if it was normal, she wondered if this was what Mike felt every time he saw Tina walk into the room. She couldn't think, breathe, dream or anything else other than Sam Evans when he was like this – a soft smirk on his lips, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his dark blue henley shirt hugging him in all the right places.

"Okay." she mouthed in reply.

It was cold outside, the air was damp, and the ominously calm feel of a rainstorm still lingered around them. Quinn pulled her cardigan tighter around her arms, willing herself not to knock back the rest of her whiskey and coke just to stay warm. Across from her, standing like a ghost from her past, was Sam. He leaned against the building's walls, one leg propped up, as he swirled his drink with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.

"So…this is what you and Mike do," his voice was scratchy, a little huskier and deeper than how she remembered it back in high school. The Southern drawl was still there, hidden underneath years of trying to sound like everybody else – she knew it'd come out in a flash when he got angry or disappointed. It saddened her to realize that she had heard it a lot while they were together.

"Usually once a month," Quinn shrugged, wincing at the way her words slurred around her tongue. "We're classy,"

Sam chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. "Well, it's fun anyway," he commented and she let out a breath, as if she had been waiting for his approval the whole time. How strange, that back at McKinley, Quinn had been the one to call all the shots between the two of them. Now, it was like she was scurrying after him and he was always two steps ahead. Sam was different here – there was no doubt about that – but underneath it all, Quinn could still see the little cracks where the old Sam would still emerge. _'But does that mean he's still my Sam? Do I want him to be?'_ she thought.

In the distance, a car honked and the subway rumbled underneath their feet, but Quinn realized there was no distraction of a beautiful rooftop view this time. Not to mention, she could feel the alcohol travel through her veins and she was pretty sure Sam was swaying back and forth (although that could've been her blurred vision).

"You're different," she blurted out. She looked down accusingly at the drink in her hand – if she was going to place blame, she was going to place blame on the stupid whiskey.

Sam raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that made her want to kick him in the shins. It was clearly a perfected look, but it was infuriating. "It's been two years, Quinn,"

And just like that, she was gone.

She stumbled backwards clumsily and blamed her heels, but she knew it was from shock. How long had it been, since she heard her name in his voice? _'Two years,'_ she answered herself. And in those two years, had she really been able to convince herself that it didn't make a difference if he had forgotten? Because of course, it made a difference. Of course she cared, because for the past two years, all she had done was wonder where he was and what he was doing.

"Still," she mumbled pathetically, after the silence between them stretched for too long.

"I still love Avatar," he offered.

Quinn snorted, covering her mouth with her hand, and giggled drunkenly. She took another bumbling step back and took a good look at him – Sam Evans was and always would be one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on. There were those arms, muscled and well-defined. The hair, that always seemed to fall effortlessly. Those green eyes that could melt every girl's heart. And those lips – songs had been written about those lips. But the best thing about Sam Evans was that he never knew, never cared, and never acknowledged the effect he had on girls.

Until now.

Now, with his playful smirk and sparkling green eyes and just _the way he looked at you._ That was all it took. That, and saying her name, made Quinn a goner. And she hated him for it – how dare he make it look so easy? Moving to the city, falling in love, reuniting with the McKinley gang…how could everything seem so effortless to him?

Quinn hated him for it.

"I don't remember you having a thing for Asians, though," she said, immediately wishing she could take it back.

Sam pushed himself off the wall and stood directly in front of her, his shoulders squared and stoic. "Excuse me?"

"You and Tina. Dating, right?" she glared up at him through her long eyelashes and Quinn recognized the hurt in his eyes this time. _'Good.'_

"Yeah, but this isn't how I wanted you to find out,"

"You didn't want me to find out _at all_," she said pointedly. "You didn't want any of us to find out – or else you would've just announced it the other night at Rachel and Kurt's!" her voice grew louder and she poked his chest with her index finger to emphasize her point, the liquid in her glass sloshing out from the sides. Quinn was teetering on the same line she always did on the nights that she drank – somewhere between completely rational and angrily insane.

"I don't actually have to tell you anything," Sam argued. His voice was calm and rational, which made her even more irritated. "I didn't know how y'all would react,"

"Oh, give it up," Quinn scoffed. She wanted to stop it, she did. She knew she was being stupid and childish and she wanted so desperately to just _stop talking_. But the fire was burning too brightly and she couldn't control it if she tried.

"You like keeping Tina a secret, don't you? Then you wouldn't have to deal with Mike or me or any of us! You could just leave all of us behind and go on with your amazing lives and careers, because the two of you have everything figured out together, don't you? You guys planned New York and universities close to each other and picked careers that let you both coexist. And when you guys get married, at some fancy Hamptons estate, you won't even _think_ about inviting any of us, because you had everything figured out first, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Quinn knew it was wrong – the minute the words left her mouth, she knew it was wrong. And from the way both of Sam's eyebrows raised, she knew she had hit a chord somewhere. Guilt washed over her, but she couldn't deny that it had felt good to yell at him, to hate him, even if it was for a little while. Quinn drew in her breath, realizing that her short monologue had caused Sam to take a step closer. He gripped his glass tightly and she could smell the booze on his breath, as he opened his mouth to speak.

"_You're_ different."

He turned and walked back inside, leaving Quinn to just nod her head in agreement. She was different – but he had made her that way.


	5. Chapter 5: I Hope it Rains

**Here it is, guys! Chapter FIVE. Lol. Thanks for all your kind words - this one took a little while to put up, I've been dealing with some personal stuff lately.**

**Anyway, hope you guys like it! :)**

**Xoxo.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: I Hope it Rains**

_Don't get me wrong, now I hope she's really the one.  
And if it's love, you know I wish you the best.  
You'll probably have yourself an outside wedding,  
Violins, all our friends and her in her pretty white dress  
And right before that first kiss…  
I hope it rains on you._

The next morning, grey skies blanketed the city and thunder rumbled loudly in the distance. It was strange, in the middle of July, for New York to be onslaught with such dreary weather, but as Quinn buried herself underneath her thick, wool blanket, she decided it was wholly appropriate. It fit her mood, from her wicked hangover to the guilt that churned her insides. And no matter how stormy it got outside, she knew it could never match the tornado of emotions she was currently going through.

"Q?"

She immediately groaned, pulling up the blanket to cover her face. There was a reason why she turned her phone off the minute she stumbled into her apartment last night - she didn't want to know what everybody else thought of her stupid comments. But even through the alcohol-fuelled haze of last night, Quinn should've known that Mike would be the one to check on her in the morning. It had been Kurt and Blaine that brought her home, but Mike would always be there when she woke up from a night of bad decisions.

And last night was particularly bad.

"I have coffee and I'm not afraid to use it!" his voice was comforting and considering how loud it was – _ouch_ – she guessed he was already in her living room. "Come on, Quinn. Come out of your little hole of shame and pity so we can talk about what happened last night," he chuckled.

At that, Quinn flicked the blanket off her face with a flourish. "I do not want to talk about it," she said haughtily, grabbing the coffee cup from his hand. She inhaled the aroma, sighing contentedly, before taking a big sip. "Ew, gross! This is black coffee!"

"Racist, aren't ya?" Mike laughed, switching the coffee in her hand for another. "This is mine, you uncultured caffeine person. Seriously, you're the worst college student ever,"

"Just because I don't pump my veins full of black tar doesn't make me a bad person," Quinn grumbled. She sipped at the caramel latte in her new cup, leaning back into the couch to let the sweet fumes wash over her.

"No, but screaming at your ex-boyfriend does,"

Quinn nearly knocked half her drink out of her cup, as she straightened up to face Mike with a scowl etched across her features. Her lips puckered and her eyebrows furrowed, she held up a finger warningly to his face. "We are _not_ talking about it!" she shrieked.

"I love you with all my heart, Fabray, but we are too talking about it,"

"Why do you care?" she whined, tucking her blanket around her bare feet. Mike raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not even answering that," he scoffed. "You're my best friend and he's my best bro, so why don't we sit and talk about the awfulness that was last night?"

"Why don't you go talk to your best bro?" Quinn shot back bitterly.

Mike chuckled, patting her on the wrist affectionately. "Because he's obviously already got someone to lick his wounds,"

"Don't say that. Don't say 'lick' with those two," she groaned, resting her head on her knees. "Also, why don't you have a hangover?"

"Ah, because I wasn't blindingly drunk and yelling at my ridiculously good-looking ex-boyfriend last night,"

Quinn raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you want to talk about last night or do you want to tell me you're gay?" a small laugh escaped her throat, but she quickly drew it back.

"The boy's been working out, I'm not going to deny that," Mike chuckled, before his expression grew serious. "But honestly – Sam and Tina?"

Quinn cringed at the two names, so close together in one sentence. They didn't belong together and now that she thought about it, what could they possibly have in common? "It's wrong," she said defiantly.

"But you know what you did was wrong, too, right?"

She sighed, setting her coffee on the table in front of her. Shifting slightly, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and hugged her knees to her chest. "Yeah," she said with a small voice. "I just got so _angry_,"

"Why?"

Quinn lifted her head to face Mike, whose concerned expression did little to ease her anxiety. Stealing a glance out the window, she felt a slight relief that it was still raining – smaller drops, but drops all the same. "Because he's dating Tina. Because they're dating each other. Because it's like…the ultimate betrayal,"

"Not to sound like the cover of a romance novel," Mike joked.

"I'm serious, Mikey. They're not just hurting me – they're hurting both of us. I hate that he gets to be happy and I don't. I hate that he moved on. I hate that they've got it all figured out and I still feel like I'm drowning," she murmured softly. "It's not fair. We were here first,"

Mike drew in a breath, before letting out in a shaky sigh. She knew he was going over what she said in her head – Mike was the most analytical, cautious person she'd ever known. "You're right. It does hurt. A lot," he whispered and Quinn's heart immediately ached for him.

She and Sam had dated for a while in high school and they always had a special place for each other, but Mike and Tina had been _the _couple. Until the city tore them apart, that is.

"I'm sorry she's dating my ex-boyfriend," Quinn offered half-heartedly.

"I'm sorry he's dating my ex-girlfriend,"

Together, they leaned back into the couch, both under the thick blanket, and watched as the little raindrops dotted the windows. It was pathetic, she knew that, but she literally wanted to wallow the whole day away. There was something comforting, to hole up with your best friend and commiserate over lost love.

It was dramatic and probably unnecessary, but definitely comforting.

Just as Quinn was about to announce that she was going to stay in her pajamas forever, her phone buzzed with a new text message. "I'm not answering it," she muttered.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Mike reached across her and grabbed the small device.

"Don't be such an optimist and let me be," Quinn shot back, punching him in the shoulder. "Who is it?"

"You're going to want to answer this," he tossed the phone towards her and she caught it swiftly. "Surprised?"

Quinn felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the name light up on her screen. _Tina Cohen-Chang_. It blinked up at her, a waiting text message waiting to be read. Without thinking about it, she slid her finger across her phone and read.

_Hey, it's Tina. I think we should talk about last night. 1:00 at Red Tree?_

"I'm not going," she decided.

"You're going. Look, she's being the bigger person here,"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "And isn't that sweet?" she said sarcastically. "Mike, she's staking her territory and you know it!"

"Tee's not like that – she doesn't get jealous,"

"You're unbelievable. Of course she gets jealous! Remember when she thought you and Brittany were hooking up during Sectionals? God knows, she thought we were hooking up for a while. Besides, she's dating _Sam_. Everybody gets territorial over him,"

"Calm down, Fabray," he grabbed her phone out of her hands and typed out a quick reply, before she could stop him. "There, you're going. You're going to be an adult and show them that you're not the same drunken mess you were last night. Now get in the shower," Mike ordered.

Quinn's jaw hung slack at her best friend's tone. Briefly, she entertained the thought of physically kicking Mike out of her apartment – he was stronger, but she was sure it could work. On the other hand, a part of her wanted to know. Sickeningly enough, she wanted to know all the little details about Sam and Tina's relationship – how they got together, why, when. And maybe Mike was right, she needed to earn back her pride again.

Breaking down in a drunken fit of sober confessions wasn't the impression Quinn wanted to project at all.

* * *

When Quinn finally left her apartment (after two more long speeches from Mike about why she should go), she found herself braving the drizzle for two blocks, as she walked towards Red Tree Café. Tucked between several clothing stores, the Red Tree was known for their coffee – but Quinn opted for an Earl Grey, instead. She was settled for five minutes, until she spotted the flash of shiny, dark hair from across the street. Wrapped in a trendy trench coat and wearing a beautiful pair of boots, Tina could've passed for a completely different person – if it wasn't for the blue streaks in her hair.

"Hey," she greeted Quinn breathlessly, taking off her coat to hang on the back of her chair. The waitress stopped and Tina ordered giving Quinn a little time to process the fact that she was meeting her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend.

_'No, this is fine. She's your friend, too. She let you crash at her place after you drank too much at Sugar's end of the year party. She was there when you opened your acceptance letter to college. You can do this,' _Quinn reminded herself.

"So…about last night," Tina started. "Quinn, I didn't want you to find out like that,"

She had to scoff at that. Tina had a lot of nerve, using the same excuse Sam did and although she knew it was probably true, it didn't make it any better. "How did you want me to find out?" Quinn asked curtly.

"Like this," Tina gestured to the space between them. "I wanted to sit down with you and Mike, to give you an explanation – we both did,"

"Well, you managed to get me, so…go ahead," she motioned, taking a sip of her tea.

Tina sighed, her fingers rubbing the rim of her coffee cup the waitress had brought her earlier. It was filled with black coffee – just like how Mike would've drunk it. "After you guys graduated and left for New York, there was this…empty hole in all of us. We got new recruits for Glee club, but nothing was ever the way it was before. We missed you," Tina sighed, before adding, "And it wasn't just me and Sam, either. Blaine, Brittany, Joe, Sugar…we all just missed you guys,"

"You missed us so much that you fell into bed with Sam Evans?" Quinn snapped, her patience wearing thin. Something inside her – probably her last string of sanity – broke, the minute Tina started her explanation.

"That was harsh, Quinn,"

"Keep going, Tina,"

The petite Asian girl fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably, licking her lips. "It just happened. Sugar threw a party and we were the only ones not drinking – we were just lonely, I guess,"

"And?"

"And we sat in the back of his truck, just talking. Looking at the stars. It felt right," Tina shrugged and Quinn let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in. Her heart felt a million pounds heavier, trying to wrap her head around the idea of Sam and Tina – not just together, but _together_, in the bed of his truck. _'That truck. That same pick-up that we used to drive down random dirt roads and he'd play me his songs and it's all the same – it's just with a different girl,'_ she thought, her mind racing.

"Why didn't you tell any of us?" Quinn asked quietly, her anger replaced with a heavy sadness.

"We didn't know how you'd react. Everybody at McKinley went with it – we've all switched boyfriends and girlfriends that it's normal by now. But telling everybody we knew…we probably should have, at some point. But I guess we were just scared,"

"Why?"

Tina sighed, twisting the blue strand of her hair around her fingers and tugging at it. "I don't know, Quinn. Mike and I didn't have the cleanest breakup. You and Sam have a whole lot of…history. It didn't seem right to just say it in a text message,"

"A little warning could've been nice,"

"I know," Tina nodded, a flicker of a smile inching across her lips. Silence fell between the two girls and as Quinn looked into Tina's dark brown eyes, she was struck with a sudden understanding. They had both been lonely and looking for comfort – it made sense that they would turn to each other. Sam had always loved a girl who needed loving and Tina, sweet Tina, needed someone who could boost her confidence – and Sam was perfect for that. In a twisted way, if Quinn hadn't known either of them beforehand, she would've thought they'd make an adorable couple.

'_But it's my ex-boyfriend. It's my Sam,' _she reasoned. Quinn had been angry when he ran off with Santana – but she didn't blame him, not after she cheated with Finn. She had also been disappointed that he had gone after Mercedes – but she had been crazy with Beth and Shelby, so it didn't make sense. But Tina? Sam and Tina? Tina, who had never done anything to hurt Quinn? And Sam, who was one half of the most epic bromance that had ever existed at McKinley High…

"Do you love him?" she asked abruptly. It was probably the stupidest question she could've ever asked – if she had already felt a knife in her back, the answer from Tina would only plunge the knife in deeper.

"How can you not love Sam Evans?" Tina smiled, her eyes downcast as she let out a soft chuckle.

'_Fuck.'_

* * *

It was 9 o'clock at night and the light drizzle from earlier in the day had turned into a full-fledged storm. Her windows rattled and lightning illuminated her apartment, but Quinn went through the motions – grabbed a Pop-Tart from the toaster, poured tea in her mug, and sat herself on her comfortable bed, a book propped up in one hand. She had left Tina at the café, finding that after their conversation about Sam, there was nothing else to talk about. It was sad to think such a long friendship could wither away that easily, but Quinn was starting to discover that some obstacles just couldn't be broken down – like when your friend fell in love with your ex-boyfriend.

"Quinn Fabray!"

The sudden outburst was accompanied by defiant footsteps and in two seconds, Santana and Rachel occupied her bedroom doorway. "Thanks for taking ten years off my life, guys," Quinn said sarcastically, setting her mug and Pop-Tart on the side table. "I thought you were a murderer,"

"Well next time, tell Mike to grow some balls and not crumble the minute we ask him for the key to your apartment!" Santana chirped, hopping up on to the bed. Rachel settled in next to Quinn and grinned, giving her a quick hug.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We heard about Sam and Tina," Rachel explained.

"Mike told you?"

Rachel giggled. "It kind of came out when Santana was threatening to cut off his balls,"

"He had it coming," the Latina shrugged. "Forget about Mike for a second. Can we please talk about how crazy it is that Trouty Mouth and Asian Number Two are getting it on? I mean…ew,"

Quinn grinned – leave it to Santana to be completely inappropriate, but still managed to say what she was thinking. "Thank you. I thought I was the only one who thought that,"

"What do they have in common, anyway?"

Rachel fidgeted slightly, adjusting her skirt to fall around her knees. "Everybody underestimates them. I can kind of see it,"

"Because you're _blind_,"

"Why do you think them getting together is such a bad thing? Everybody thought Finn and I were completely uncompatible and look how that turned out,"

"We're still waiting on the jury's verdict for that one," Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not saying they're not good people. Tee's been a great friend to me and Brittany, and Sam's got great lips," she smirked.

"So?"

Santana sighed loudly, pulling out a carton of ice cream and three spoons from her bag. She snapped it open, and the girls immediately dug in. "So it's like this," she started, her spoon dangling from her lips. "Tina and Mike belong together. Sam and Quinn belong together. Tina and Sam do _not_ belong together,"

Quinn plunged her spoon into the soft ice cream deeper, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. As selfish as it was and as horrible as the thought was – Santana had managed to put into words what Quinn had been thinking all along.


	6. Chapter 6: Every Time I See You

**Before anything, I have to say something about the immense loss the Glee fandom, the show, and the whole world has endured this past week. Finn Hudson was the first character I fell in love with and Cory Monteith brought him to life - his light, his work, and his heart and soul will be sorely missed. RIP Cory.**

**Okay then.**

**Whew, so here it is...Chapter 6! I know this is a little overdue, but things have gotten nuts here, what with work, fasting month, and old friends coming back. I've had this chapter written for a while, actually.**

**Last time, y'all saw Quinn and Tina talk. This chapter jumps a few weeks ahead and there's a lot of Quinn/Sam interaction - so read your little hearts out, you lovely souls! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Every Time I See You**

_I'd love to say I can hold myself together  
But I can't help but come unglued  
Every time I see you, every time I see you  
I wanna tell you everything I ever wanted to say  
But I never do  
Every time I see you, every time I see you  
_

For the next few weeks, Quinn tried her hardest to avoid any accidental run-ins with Sam and Tina. It helped that Mike came down with the flu – on one hand, she was glad she didn't have a tag-along all the time, and on the other, Mike had gotten increasingly obsessed with running into Tina. It was as if he had convinced himself that the more time they spent together – regardless of the fact that she had a live-in boyfriend now – would mean they would eventually get back together. Quinn knew it was just Mike's way; he was impulsive, loyal, and idealistic when it came to matters of the heart. She was just worried that one day, the hopeless romantic in him would have to face the truth.

With Mike out with the flu, Quinn had a lot of time to reroute her favourite spots in the city. She barely spent any more time at the Red Tree Café, she avoided any coffee shops on Broadway, and she was always looking over her shoulder. When she thought she saw a blonde head making its way towards her while she waited for the train, Quinn had hopped on to a different one – only to ride it all the way to Brooklyn and back. If anything, having Sam and Tina in the city together was making her do a lot more stupid things than usual.

She didn't give up her work out routine, though. As much as Quinn wanted to lie in bed and wallow in the joke that was currently her life, there was no possible way to cut back on her training for dance. Which was why, at 7 o'clock in the morning, she was already on her second lap around her neighbourhood park, sprinting amongst the other morning joggers on an early Saturday morning. The air was crisp and a little chilly, just the way she liked it, and she pushed herself harder than she usually did, with Mike's encouraging voice in the back of her mind. But somewhere between the swing set and the slide, Quinn felt goose bumps prickling on her skin and she was consciously aware of the fact that there was someone watching her.

"Hey, stranger," a deep, Southern drawl came up next to her and Quinn instinctively groaned. "Alright, not the reaction I was hoping to get,"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, settling her words around the rhythm her running feet kept.

"I'm running, obviously," he chuckled, slowing his pace to match hers. "Where's your other half?"

"He's got the flu. And find your own freaking park," Quinn grumbled. Deep down, she knew she should've been a little nicer. But it wasn't fair that he and his girlfriend were already pushing her out of the city – it was hers, after all.

"You're a joy to run next to, you know that?"

Quinn scoffed and sprinted the last leg of the track, desperate to out-run him and desperate to squash the possibility of a conversation. It didn't work much – Sam was stronger and faster than she would ever be – and as she slowed down at an old oak tree, she stopped and rested her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. "So don't run next to me," she pouted.

"Quinn, stop being so damn stubborn," he rolled his eyes.

She scowled, wondering how he managed to look so calm and collected after an intense run. Meanwhile, she was dripping with sweat and strands of her blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail were sticking to bare skin. Quinn cocked her head to one side, trying to read Sam's expression. All she got was a blasé, nonchalant look that conveyed little.

"Honestly, I should be the one who's mad – not you," Sam pointed out.

"Um, you don't just show up out of nowhere and take over the city with your new girlfriend and expect me to be okay," she crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, flicking her sweaty ponytail over her shoulder.

"First of all, I showed up from Lima. Second of all, I'm not taking over any city – I have just as much right to be here as you do. And why wouldn't I expect you to be okay? We haven't seen or spoken to each other in _two years_," Sam sat down on the grass, leaning against the old oak tree, and stretched his legs out. Looking up at Quinn, he patted the space next to him.

There was something in his voice this time around – a power and a confidence that he never really used with her before. She looked at the empty spot and back to Sam, before reluctantly settling down beside him, letting the tired wash over her body. "Has it really been that long?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "But it's okay. You were busy up until graduation and after that; you were busy with the move to the city. And getting settled in…I'm sure it was a lot,"

"Well, I wasn't the only one busy," she pointed out.

Sam sighed and pressed his palms together. She caught a glimpse of his callused fingers and her mind briefly flashbacked to the times those fingers would run over her bare skin, sparking fires in their path. The memory caused a shudder to run down her spine and she was conscious of the fact that they were sitting close – close enough that she felt the heat emanating from his body.

"Quinn, I should've told you about Tina," he said finally. "I know you talked to her about it, but it probably should have been me,"

"Why didn't you?" she prompted.

"I was mad. You freaked me out when you said all that stuff about Tina and I having our future planned, because…"

"Because we had _our _future planned once?" Quinn finished for him, the words escaping her lips in a whisper. Sam nodded once, slowly. Silence fell between them again and Quinn wondered if this was what their relationship (friendship? Who knew anymore) had been reduced to – awkward encounters and unfinished business, all set against a backdrop of quiet.

"I should've told you," he murmured.

Quinn rested her head against the oak tree, lifting her face to the bright sun that was growing brighter by the minute. It was nearing 8 o'clock and most of the joggers had left the park – save for a few who were playing with their kids. She let her head fall to the side, her face inches away from Sam's shoulder. "You should have," she conceded. "But it wasn't like you told Santana or Mercedes, either,"

"Quinn," he chuckled and she smiled at that, at hearing her name wrapped around a Sam Evans laugh. "Come on. Santana doesn't care who I'm dating. And Mercedes and I are just friends – as long as I'm happy, she's happy,"

"Are you? Happy, I mean?" It was another question she shouldn't have asked – just like when she asked Tina if she really loved Sam. She didn't really want to know the answer, but a part of her felt like she needed to know. _'Maybe if he really is happy, then I could be okay with him dating Tina. I'm supposed to want him to be happy, right?'_ she thought, but Quinn was a better liar than even she knew.

"I am," Sam admitted. "It's a different kind of happy – but it's happy. Are you?"

"Yeah, I guess. School is school and I'm grateful for that, but I still get to dance. And that's important," she smiled. As much as she didn't think so, Quinn knew deep in her heart that the city had become her own a long time ago. She and Mike had conquered it, just as they had conquered everything else, and despite her complaints that Sam and Tina were going to take it away from her - she knew it wouldn't happen. They would conquer the city too, just in their own ways.

"Where are you dancing nowadays? Hopefully not your basement like back in Lima," he smirked.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with that basement way back when," she reminded him, remembering the times he would sit and watch her perform for hours on end.

Sam raised his eyebrows at her. "That's because we got to make out on the couch after you finished rehearsing," he laughed.

"Oh god, we did do that!" Quinn groaned, running her hands over her face. A giggle escaped her, as she remembered all the close calls they had, from random phone calls from their friends to her own mother interrupting their make out sessions.

"Hey, we were kids," Sam shrugged. "But it's good to know you're still dancing,"

Quinn nodded, pushing off from the oak tree to stand up. She dusted off the stray pieces of grass stuck to her legs and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't like she could explain it, but that brief trip down memory lane was a straight shot to having her heart fall right back to where it shouldn't be – and Quinn couldn't risk that, not this time.

Instead, she said, "Yeah, at the Dance Space Studio on Broadway – Mike and I are students and part-time teachers. I get to teach a solo class tonight, actually, since he's out sick," she smiled.

"That's awesome," Sam grinned, his lopsided smile sending Quinn's thoughts into a tailspin again. He stood up and hovered over her figure warmly. She fidgeted under his gaze – a part of her wanted to erase the past couple of years away.

Who cared that he had a girlfriend now? Who cared that his girlfriend was one of her friends? Who cared about any of that? But another part of her (her sensible counterpart) recognised that with Tina in the picture, nothing could ever go back to the way it was.

They could sit and reminisce as much as they wanted to, but things wouldn't change – too much had happened, too much time had passed, and just like her friendship with Tina, there were some obstacles that just couldn't be hurdled.

* * *

"Alright, everybody! Let's run through the steps one more time and then we can call it a night," Quinn clapped her hands together and bent down to the stereo to flip the switch.

"Ms. Fabray! There's someone here!" Madison West, an Upper East Side trust fund kid, cried out suddenly. "You said this was a closed class!" she pouted, stomping her foot on the hardwood floor.

Quinn groaned inwardly and straightened, ready to scold whoever it was that decided to drop in for a visit – until she saw Sam Evans in the mirrors that lined the wall in front of her. A small shriek came out of her mouth and she whirled around. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked.

"I wanted to see where all the magic happens. This is definitely better than your basement," he smirked, a corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. Quinn's knees nearly buckled under his gaze – there was something about the way he said it, as if he wasn't just talking about the dancing. Her mind recalled the conversation from the park earlier that day and she blushed, remembering how they talked about their times on her basement couch. _'Is he actually doing this right now?'_ she thought.

Quinn walked over to him and her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Madison's right – it's a closed class,"

"So close the door," he whispered back and she squeezed her eyes shut. On the outside, it looked like she was trying to make a decision whether or not he could stay. But internally, Quinn was willing her brain to block out all the memories that were flooding her. She couldn't think straight, not when he was standing right in front of her, all big and safe, dressed in a green collared shirt that brought out his eyes. _'It's those damn eyes…'_

"Alright, fine, you can stay," she muttered, going to shut the door behind him. Turning back to her class, she saw several of the kids – Madison West, in particular – with their hands on their hips. "Meet Sam Evans, everybody!" she announced, as Sam found a seat nearby – on a couch, nonetheless.

"It's a _closed_ class," Madison said haughtily.

"I'm fully aware of that, Ms. West. But Sam here is a special guest – so we're going to share our dance space with him. You guys won't even know he's here, okay?" Quinn replied, taking her spot at the front of the class again. "Alright, line up!"

Madison stalked over to where Sam was sitting and glared at him. "If you laugh at any of us, I'm calling my _mother_," she warned, wiggling her finger in front of his face for emphasis, before sprinting back to the rest of the kids to get into formation.

With the shock still written across Sam's face, Quinn stifled a chuckle and flipped the switch on the stereo. She led the class into a series of dance steps, her limbs moving fluidly through the air, and for the first time in a long time, she finally let loose. Her hair whipped around her and she kept a trained eye on the kids – calling out instructions and counting off so they could get the beat right. The music pulsed through her body and Quinn's mind immediately forgot about everything she had going on in her life. There was no school, no bills to pay, no sick best friend, no blasts from the past…it was just her, the music, and the movement.

She knew Sam was watching her, mesmerized, his eyes burning into her body and Quinn felt transported back to her basement - when she was seventeen years old and they were planning for someday. The lights were dimmed, the song was slow, and he rose from his seat to make his way towards her. He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, her body flush against his. She breathed heavily, as his callused fingers softly traced the outline of her face and pushed back the loose strands of hair behind her ear. He leaned in, his lips inching closer and closer…

The music stopped.

Silence flooded the room as one by one, the students fell out of formation and Quinn stumbled slightly, trying to end on a perfect note. Out of breath, she turned back to face her class with a big smile and dismissed them. They trickled out of the studio and by the time the last one left – of course, it was Madison – Sam was already standing by the doorway. Quinn sighed, walking towards him and retying her hair up into a high ponytail. She suddenly missed the familiarity of seeing Mike waiting for her after class.

"I know it's usually Mike who walks you home, but you up for a change today?" Sam grinned. She looked up at him, her smile mirroring his.

Despite all the years lost between them, there were still these moments – small, fleeting, and rare, but moments nonetheless. They reminded her of the good times they had and how on track they were together, how alike and how similarly minded they were. "Yeah, sounds good," she said, leading the way out of the studio.

The city was quiet that night, with just the distant sounds of the subway rumbling beneath their feet. Together, they walked in silence, falling into step next to each other. It felt normal and familiar – much like how she and Mike had choreographed their dance routine years ago, she and Sam had their own, too. In a matter of minutes, they reached Quinn's apartment building and she idled by the entrance, wondering desperately what all of it meant. She had a sudden urge to just reach out and kiss Sam senseless, but the smarter part of her knew it wasn't right. '_Then why did he show up at my dance class? Why did he walk me home?'_ she wondered. Her curiosity was getting the best of her.

"Do you want to come up for a drink or something?"

There was a pause and Sam's lips curled into a playful smirk – as if someone had said something hilarious, but only he was privy to it. "Sure," he replied. They made their way into the lobby and up the elevator, when she suddenly realized that it would be the first time he would see her apartment. Panicking, she prayed that there was nothing embarrassing lying around, but there wasn't much time to think about it – as the elevator doors opened, Sam exited first and without her telling him where to go, he stood next to her front door.

"You're psychic," she commented, fumbling for her keys.

"I took a wild guess," he shrugged, holding open the door when it finally opened. She stepped in first and quickly surveyed the small apartment, trying to see it from his eyes.

Her couch had definitely seen better days. It sagged underneath the weight of far too many pillows and her coffee table was piled high with books, papers, CDs, and thumb drives. Her kitchen was spotless, since she rarely used it to cook anything, but the sliding doors to her bedroom were open and revealed her bed - her clothes scattered on it from when she was getting ready for dance class. Sprinting forward, she snapped her bedroom doors shut with a clatter and looked up to see Sam smirking.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, you know," he told her, taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools. She blushed furiously, dropping her dance bag to walk over to him.

"Right, I'm sure you're used to it since you're living with Tina now,"

"Actually, I meant because I used to practically live in your room back in Lima,"

Quinn's eyes widened and she nearly coughed up a lung. It was stressful enough having him occupy her living space – now he was bringing up old times again and occupying her brain with old memories. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"So I've been told," he said.

"What are you drinking nowadays?" she asked, heading behind the other side of the kitchen island, where she kept all her bottles of alcohol. Mike always joked that she was more of a drinker than he was (it was true – he was _such _a lightweight) and her never-ending knowledge of drinks made her a popular guest at most of the college parties.

"You've got the stuff for an Old Fashioned?" he asked, peering over the counter. She raised an eyebrow, as if to challenge him.

Without saying another word, she took out everything she needed and started putting together the drink. It was a classic, just like he was, she mused, as she muddled the ingredients. Dropping a cocktail cherry into the glass, she slid it over to him and placed her hands on her hips.

He took a sip, feeling the alcohol burn his throat, and then took another one – longer this time. "If you ask me, you should be in the bartending business, not Santana," he chuckled. "This is really good,"

"Thanks," she quipped, mixing Coke and whiskey in her own glass. "I could never work at Phoenix, though. The crowd there is…"

"Sleazy? Yeah, no kidding. We were there for like, five minutes, when some guy slaps Tina on the…" his sentence trailed off, as if he realized what (or who) he was talking about. Quinn saw something in his eyes snap, like he was kicking himself for forgetting that talking about your current girlfriend in front of your ex-girlfriend probably wasn't a good idea.

Instead, she gave him a soft smile and tilted her head to the side, examining him. Her heart ached, that was for sure, at any mention about Sam and Tina – it was still too fresh for her to process rationally. But there was something else. Sam's reluctance to talk about his relationship with Tina – when Tina herself had already talked about it with Quinn – was puzzling. Maybe it was because Quinn was his ex-girlfriend and he thought he was doing her a service by not talking about it, but to literally remind himself to shut up about it…it was like she wasn't getting all of Sam, just the little parts he wanted her to see.

"You can say her name, you know,"

He shrugged, swirling the drink around in his glass. "I thought you wouldn't want to talk about it. Since she already talked to you,"

"Did you ask her to?"

"No. That was her idea," Sam let out a disgruntled sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I told her you wouldn't be into it, but then she said something about how Mike would force you, because it was the right thing,"

Quinn let out a hearty laugh – it was nice to know that after all the years, the New Directions could still read each other's minds. "Well, there's really no doubt they used to date, is there?"

"Yeah…is that weird? I mean, this whole thing, is just weird?" Sam wondered aloud.

"It's not _easy_," she said, taking their empty glasses to put into the sink. "We used to date, Mike and Tina used to date. Tina and I were close friends. You and Mike are best friends. Mike and I are best friends,"

"You're making this sound like an episode of One Tree Hill,"

Quinn chuckled softly, grabbing two bottles of water out of her fridge. Tossing him one, she said, "Well, if you just dated some random girl at McKinley, this would've been a lot easier,"

Sam paused, taking a long sip of water. He capped his drink and cocked his head to one side, studying her. She shifted slightly under his gaze, but kept her eyes on him. "Would it have been easier?" he asked.

"Probably not,"

Breathing out a sigh, they stayed like that for a while, her fingers tapping against the kitchen counter, his gaze on her. If she was being completely honest, talking about who Sam dated was making her incredibly uncomfortable – but a part of her knew she just wanted him in her life again, even if that meant sitting through painful conversations.

A message tone cut through the air, startling Quinn and Sam out of their own thoughts. He mumbled an apology and pulled his phone out, checking who it was from. "It's getting late. I should probably head back," he announced abruptly, getting up from his seat.

Quinn nodded, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. She followed him towards the door and he opened it – slower, this time, like he was debating his choice to leave – lingering in the doorway. "Thanks for walking me home," she said.

"Thanks for the drink," his smile tilted to one side and Quinn found herself focusing on the shape of his bicep, flexed as he leaned against the doorway. She thought of all the times that same arm would wrap around her waist to pull her in closer, how it would sling over her shoulders, as they walked down the halls at McKinley High.

"Is Tina asking for you?" she whispered, taking a step closer to him. Quinn knew it was wrong – he had a girl at home, after all.

Sam nodded, his eyes dropping down to her lips. One look turned into a million conversations they could never have, conversations they would never have time for.

"You should go," she stated, her fingers gripping the edge of her front door.

"I should," his deep voice, tinged with the softest of whispers, broke her heart. He nodded once at her and turned around, leaving.

Quinn closed the door and tried hard not to let the tears fall.

* * *

"I'm really happy you're not sick anymore, but I also kind of wish you were," Quinn grumbled, tucking her feet underneath her and holding out her hands for a cup of coffee. "Is this your kind of coffee or mine?"

"It's yours, sleepyhead," Mike chuckled, sitting down across from and taking a sip from his own mug. After Quinn's night with Sam – the one she hadn't told Mike about, for reasons she didn't want to analyse just yet – she had decided to stop going out of her way avoid running into Sam or Tina. Which was why, at 8 o'clock on a Tuesday morning, Mike had dragged her out of the apartment and to the Red Tree Café.

"Why is it so _early_?" she whined.

Mike laughed. "You are not a morning person," he observed.

"You've known me for my whole life and this is what surprises you?"

"What surprises me is that you managed a whole week without me,"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to contract some deadly virus and then I'll spit into your stupid black coffee,"

"So charming – no wonder the boys are knocking down your door for a date," Mike smirked. Before she could retaliate, a shadow dropped over them and when they looked up, Quinn groaned – because of course they would be running into Sam and Tina.

"What are we talking about?" Tina chirped, settling on one of the other armchairs.

"Oh, Quinn was threatening to end my life. You know, usual best friend talk,"

Sam chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Good to see you're feeling better, man," he nodded at Mike, who looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

"How'd you know I was sick? I never told you,"

Quinn coughed, nearly choking on her coffee, as her conversation with Sam in the park came back into her memory. _'What kind of best bros are they anyway?!' _she panicked, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"Uh…"

"Rachel told him!" Quinn squealed. "You know her; she's got some text message blast to update everybody about everybody else…"

Sam smirked, obviously finding the humour in seeing Quinn squirm. "Yeah, that's what happened,"

"Oh, I thought Tina told you," Mike shrugged, before his eyes widened and his lips pressed together – almost as if he had let something slip.

"Hey, Sam, let's go get coffee!" Tina blurted out, jumping up from her seat and grabbing his arm, dragging him away.

Quinn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion – Tina was obviously flustered about something and across from her, Mike looked like he was hiding behind his coffee mug. For the first time, she couldn't read him clearly and her insides churned with curiosity.

But as she stole another glance over at the counter, she met Sam's gaze and suddenly, everything else didn't matter quite as much anymore.


	7. Chapter 7: Holy Ground

**Thank you for all the kind words! **

**Y'all, I am so excited to put this chapter up! Like, bouncing off my chair excited! Okay, so last time, you got to see some really cute Sam and Quinn moments and I'm so happy to tell you guys that it's not the last of it! :) We saw them hanging out and obviously, not telling Mike or Tina about it, but then dun-dun-dun, Mike and Tina are also hiding something of their own, maybe? :P **

**You'll see a couple of things resolved in this chapter, but you'll also start to see a new development...which is probably why I'm excited about this chapter. **

**So go ahead, read, review, and hopefully fall in love with it a little? :)**

**I don't own Glee. Unfortunately. Otherwise, this whole fic is what Season 5 would look like. **

* * *

**Chapter 7: Holy Ground  
**

_Tonight I'm gonna dance for all that we've been through.  
But I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you.  
Tonight I'm gonna dance like you were in this room.  
But I don't wanna dance if I'm not dancing with you.  
It was good never looking down.  
And right there where we stood was holy ground._

Soft, indie-folk music filtered through the stereo speakers, as Quinn stuck a container of left-over takeout into the microwave. She had just come back from a two hour long lecture and her entire body was aching from the busy week she had. There were seminars and lectures, assignments and reading, dance lessons and dance classes. She skipped out on a "family" dinner – Rachel called it that, it was mostly just McKinley alumni – and had to cancel on Santana, but since it was Friday night, Quinn was just grateful she'd get to sleep peacefully in her bed.

The microwave beeped and she took out the little box, dumping the contents onto a waiting plate. She was just about to dig in, when her front door burst open and Mike ran in, breathless and panting. Her fork fell to her plate with a clatter and her first thought was that he was hurt. Frightened out of her mind, she rounded her kitchen counter and placed both hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him.

"Are you okay? What happened? Did someone hurt you?" Quinn rattled off, lifting his face to meet hers.

"No, no, I'm fine," he wheezed, swatting away her hands, as she tried to feel his forehead. "Why would I be running if I had a fever?"

"I don't know!" Quinn cried, taking a step back. "Why would you just burst into my apartment?"

Mike cringed and he straightened, bringing himself up to full height. "I needed to tell you something," he explained, hobbling over to the kitchen stool to sit down. He glanced at Quinn's forgotten dinner and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Really, Quinn? Chinese takeout? You have a stove, you know,"

Quinn crossed her arms defiantly. "Not all of us are the Asian Masterchef, Mikey," she sneered. "Did you come here to tell me something or to mock the way I eat?"

"Both,"

"Well, start with what you have to tell me," she positioned herself on the other side of the kitchen counter, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.

Mike drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She saw the hesitation in her eyes and after several minutes of silence, Quinn reached over and nudged him out of his trance. "Okay, so…remember when Tina and Sam ran into us at the Red Tree the other day? And how I said that I thought that Tina told Sam about me being sick? And then she played it totally _not _cool and flipped out and walked away?"

Quinn nodded, leaning forward eagerly. She had practically forgotten about the strange encounter, but now that he was bringing it up again, she was intrigued.

"That's because…Tina was with me. She came to visit and we hung out," Mike winced, shrinking back in his seat as he saw Quinn's eyes grow wide.

"You were with Tina? My ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend, your ex-girlfriend, Tina?" she whispered, a smirk forming on her lips.

"Yeah. You're not mad, right? I don't even…wait, why are you laughing?"

Quinn covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking and tears springing to her eyes. "No, it's just…oh my god, I can't believe you!" she sniffed and lowered her hands. "We're in the same boat,"

"What do you mean?" Mike asked, obviously puzzled, until it finally dawned on him. "You hung out with _Sam_. That's how he knew I was sick!"

"Guilty," she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink, before automatically passing it across the counter to Mike.

"How was it?"

"Okay," she bit her lip, remembering how entranced she had been by Sam's presence in her apartment. "We ran into each other at the park, he dropped by the studio, walked me home, we had a drink, and then he left,"

"It wasn't awkward? No lingering feelings?" Mike asked.

She took a moment to process his question and tried to put together a combination of words that didn't sound like a resounding yes. "It was hard, I guess. But he and I dated a long time ago…how was it with Tina?"

"Weird, at first. But it got better," he smiled. "She dropped by to talk and I looked like death, so she actually made me chicken soup and we watched Footloose…it was nice,"

Quinn smiled softly at the way Mike spoke of his ex-girlfriend. It was obvious he was still in love with her and despite the current mess they were tangled in, it was still heart-warming to see. "What did you guys talk about?"

"Pace, Columbia, dance…she's doing some volunteer work with a children's charity uptown," Mike slid off the kitchen stool and headed straight for the junk food drawer. Grabbing a bag of Skittles, he ripped them open and popped several of them into his mouth. "You know what's weird?"

"The fact that you eat my junk food stash like it's your own?"

Mike narrowed his eyes down at her and offered her some of the candy. "No. It's the fact that Tina and Sam obviously haven't told each other that they hung out with us individually,"

Quinn froze, a Skittle halfway to her mouth, her mind struggling to recall any sort of mention of the fact from the past week. "You don't think…"

"I _do_ think," he nodded, walking over to the couch. "Despite the fact that they insist they're happy, I think they're keeping secrets from each other – like going to see their exes, in particular,"

"What makes you think that? Maybe they did tell each other,"

"Right, and that's why Tina was so calm when we ran into them the other day," Mike said sarcastically. "Think about it, Quinn. They both came to see us separately and they didn't tell the other one what they were doing. What does that mean?" he wondered aloud, falling back onto the couch.

Quinn sighed and joined him. "I suppose you want me to tell you that it means Tina is still desperately in love with you and wants to break up with Sam?" she cringed, realizing that deep down, that was probably what she wanted for herself – for it to mean that Sam was still in love with her, and wanted to break up with Tina.

It was a horrible thought and she tried to push it out of her mind - but as she stole a glance over at her best friend, who was gnawing at his bottom lip as he stared into the nothingness, Quinn knew that she clearly wasn't the only one looking for a lost love.

"Well, what are _you_ saying? That we don't care about friends keeping secrets from each other?" Mike asked.

"Don't do that. The whole idea of 'friends' flew out the window the minute you laid eyes on Tina that night. But I am saying that maybe we should give them the benefit of the doubt. We don't even know what Sam and Tina are like as a couple – why would we try and destroy that?"

"Why are you being so reasonable?" Mike huffed, punching the pillow next to him. "Bring back the Queen of Mean from high school, would you?"

Quinn chuckled, popping another Skittle into her mouth. "I'm not happy about them dating – believe me, they could both do better,"

"What do they even have in common?"

"I know! Tina is all Goth rock and roll,"

"And Sam's laidback country," Mike pointed out with a heavy sigh. He leaned back and fiddled with the ends of a throw pillow, before asking, "If you're not happy about them being together, why are you tolerating it?"

"Because…what else am I supposed to do, Mike? Throw a tantrum? Yeah, that'll make Sam come running back to me,"

"Is that what you want? For Sam to come back again?"

The question made Quinn squirm in her seat. She had been trying hard to get down to the root of what she really wanted, but she couldn't answer it honestly without being completely selfish. A part of her knew she should be doing the right thing – laying off the Sam and Tina ship and letting them be. But another part of her (maybe it was the Queen of Mean trickling back into her personality) wanted to break them up and keep Sam for herself, wanted them to realize that they didn't belong together – but Sam and Quinn did.

Before she could try and answer Mike's question, she was interrupted by his phone buzzing. Mumbling an apology, he took the call and Quinn chewed on the candy in her hands, trying to get her own thoughts under control. She had gotten frighteningly good at hiding how she felt – to others, Quinn came off as calm and collected, completely unfazed about the fact that her ex-boyfriend was now dating her best friend's ex-girlfriend. _'I swear, if this was just Finn or Puck, it wouldn't bother me. So why does it bother me when it comes to Sam Evans? He's just this dorky, Avatar-referencing, goofy, impressions-obsessed, geeky – '_

"Finn's in town!"

Mike's sudden reappearance caused her to shriek in surprise. She held a hand to her heart, trying to steady her breathing, while glaring at her best friend, who settled back down into his seat, oblivious that he had almost sent Quinn into an early cardiac arrest.

"What?"

"Yeah, that was Finn on the phone. He had some time off, so he decided to surprise Rachel for the week – and all of us, too, I guess," Mike chatted excitedly. "He's over there now,"

"Oh. Okay," Quinn smiled. _'See? You know Finn is in town, but you don't get all mental like you did when you saw Sam,'_ she scolded herself.

"Anyway, Rachel's inviting everybody out tomorrow night for – "

"A family dinner?" Quinn giggled.

"More like a family outing," Mike amended. "Finn's taking Rachel to dinner somewhere and then we're meeting up,"

"Not Phoenix, please not Phoenix," she pleaded.

He shook his head, laughing. "You know, we should really find another bar, considering how much we hate it there. I mean, the drinks really aren't that great,"

"Or we could just ask Santana to get a real job," she deadpanned.

"Like that's going to happen,"

"If she could just waitress at The Whiskey Kitchen, I'd be set for life," Quinn joked.

"Hey, why don't we pre-game at your place?" Mike asked, bouncing up and down in his seat. She raised her eyebrows at him – clearly, the bad mood he was in before was erased by the possibility of drinking himself silly. Normally, Quinn would've brought him back down to earth quickly, but considering the condition his heart was in…she'd let him have some fun.

"Who even says 'pre-game' anymore?"

"I do!" he exclaimed. "Come on, we'll invite everybody over, you and Santana can bartend, then we can go out to Crimson or something to dance,"

"Shouldn't you ask Rachel first?"

"You think I'm going to call her right after I find out Finn is in town? Let me remind you that Kurt is working tonight, which means an empty apartment…with Rachel…and Finn,"

"Gross, I didn't need a visual!" Quinn cringed, laughing as Mike started to dance in his seat. "Fine, invite people over. But I'm not calling Sam or Tina," she warned, a giggle rising in her throat, when she saw his face fall.

"Damn you, Queen of Mean."

* * *

Letting out a frustrated groan, Quinn flung a black pencil skirt past her shoulder, before diving back into her closet. It was a Saturday night and she was trying to find something to wear – a task that would've been completed hours ago, if it hadn't been for Mike Chang. For some unknown reason, he was strangely excited for that night, going out of his way to help her clean the apartment and sure enough, invite everybody – even making the call to his ex-girlfriend.

"Quinn! What's taking you so long?" he cried from the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, she stood up and stalked over, pulling her bedroom door open. Clad in a pair of lace boy shorts and her bra, she poked her head out to glare at her best friend.

"If you hadn't insisted on keeping me out the whole day, I would've been dressed by now!"

"You haven't had a party in a long time," Mike said sheepishly.

Quinn shot him a withering look, before flipping him off and turning back to her messy bedroom. Clothes were strewn on every surface imaginable and her closet was practically empty. Her dresser was littered with makeup and her curling iron was in the process of heating up. As much as she didn't want to give in to Mike's enthusiasm, it was infectious.

Ever since the Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza (as it had been so aptly named by Santana), Quinn couldn't remember the last time they had all gotten together to go dancing. Sure, they hung out a lot – sometimes too much – but clubbing was usually the last option on their list. _'Funny how we decided to do this when Finn is back. God knows, the guy has two left feet!' _she giggled softly to herself. Examining her closet, she racked her brain, trying to think of what to wear for the night. Outside, she could hear Mike plug his iPod into the stereo and she gave her hips a little shake, recognising the old 90's song that blared through the apartment. She had a little under an hour to get ready, but with no idea what to wear; she vowed to at least pick out her shoes first. Rummaging through her closet, Quinn pulled out a pair of nude, platform heels. As she stood up, the top of her head brushed against a flimsy material and she immediately grinned, recognising what it was.

A half hour later, Quinn stepped out of her room, sashaying from side to side, as she made her way to the living room. Bottles of alcohol and mixers adorned the counter, and her coffee table was filled with food. Music filled the apartment and she spotted Mike, fiddling with his iPod.

"So, what do you think?" she asked loudly to get his attention.

Mike turned, and instantly grinned at the sight of her. "You clean up well, Fabray," he let out a low whistle and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You're not so bad yourself," she pointed out, gesturing towards his dark wash jeans and black sweater. "You don't think it's too much?" Quinn asked, twirling in one place for good measure. The flimsy material she had felt brush across her head belonged to a skirt – it was slightly on the voluminous side and could've been mistaken for a toned down version of a tutu, but it also held a lot of memories.

"I think it's perfect," Mike smiled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. Quinn clapped her hands excitedly in response and followed him to the kitchen. A part of her knew she wasn't wearing the skirt just because it looked good (although it did. It really did). The skirt held a lot of memories – in particular, during a dress rehearsal for Nationals in her junior year. "Are you excited?"

"Ridiculously excited," she bounced from foot to foot, a smile on her face. "We haven't gone dancing in so long,"

"Which is weird, seeing as how we're part-time dancers," Mike chuckled.

"It's a different kind of dancing – you don't have to be perfect at it,"

"Which is good news for Finn and Sam,"

Quinn laughed, but hearing Sam's name made her insides twist nervously. Maybe it was the possibility of getting incredibly wasted (Mike was well on his way there already), maybe it was just something in the air, but there was a certain heaviness that came with the night – a sort of promise that things would change. But before she could dwell on it for too long, the doorbell rang.

"You guys better not have started without me," Finn declared, wrapping his arms around Quinn's waist and lifting her into a hug. Rachel followed shortly after him, then Kurt, and Santana.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mike handed Finn a drink, who looked at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, that's why you've already got the Asian glow," Finn chuckled, setting Quinn back down. He took a sip of his drink, wincing as the liquid burned his throat. "You've got nothing in your hands and that's a party foul, Fabray," he pointed at Quinn.

"Guilty," she laughed, raising her hands in surrender, before going round the counter to mix her own drink. "Where's everybody else?"

"Joe and Sugar are on their way," Rachel chimed in, just as the doorbell rang again. "Oh, that's probably them. I'll go get it,"

Quinn paid no attention and busied herself with pouring drinks. Santana joined her and for the next few minutes, just as Mike had wanted, they tended bar. Her apartment was fuller than it had ever been – usually, it was just her and sometimes Mike. How strange it was, to have it so full of people, and yet, Quinn felt like she was floating, as she stepped out from behind the kitchen counter. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she was vaguely aware that she was neither here nor there…until a familiar face came into focus in her line of view.

"Hey, Quinn,"

"Sam," she murmured, taking in the way his figure hovered over hers. The noise in her apartment rose several levels and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tina laughing and smiling in between Kurt and Blaine, the tell-tale reddish tint already on her cheeks. Across from her, Mike was telling a story, his eyes bright with excitement. "How are you?

"Good. You?"

"Good," Quinn shrugged, noticing that Joe and Sugar were trying to get Santana to stop making drinks. In the corner, near her stereo, Rachel was perched on top of Finn's lap and for a split second, if Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, she could actually transport herself back to Rachel Berry's House Party Extravaganza. In front of her, Sam shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, but stopped when his eyes fell on what she was wearing.

"Nice skirt," he remarked.

"Thanks," she grinned, twirling a little for his benefit.

Sam let out a shaky sigh and to Quinn's surprise, he took a step closer. Leaning down, his lips brushed against her ear and he spoke in a deep, husky voice tinged with the sexy Southern drawl he was known for.

"I think I liked it better when it was on the floor of my hotel room during Nationals."

* * *

The building shook in time to the bass and bodies moved against each other rhythmically. The air was thick from the smoke machines and people filled every free space in the room. In the middle of it all, Quinn was pressed against Mike, the music pulsing through their veins. Night had fallen – although none of them knew it, blurred by the drinks they had in hand. Next to her, Quinn saw Rachel and Finn, but it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other ended. Joe and Sugar had taken a break from the dance floor and were watching over their table somewhere, while Kurt, Blaine, and Santana were doing some sort of a three-way dance huddle on the floor.

"I'm getting a drink!" Mike shouted close to her ear and she nodded in response, giving him a little wave as he walked away, reminding herself that she'd have to keep a closer eye on him. They always joked that he was a lightweight, but surprisingly, Mike could stay drunk for an incredibly long time. And judging by the way he was fumbling towards the bar – not to mention his bright pink face – it was clear that he was officially wasted. Still, despite the possibility that she'd have to take care of her best friend, Quinn twirled happily, deciding that there was definitely nothing else in the world that could possibly be as exhilarating as dancing was.

Except maybe Sam Evans.

Her cheeks flushed, remembering how close he had been to her – how long had it been since she had felt his breathless whispers against her neck? _'Two years ago,'_ she answered herself. It was obviously two years too long, since Quinn was rendered speechless, while Sam had just walked away, like nothing had happened. Everybody else had been totally oblivious to their close encounter – thank God – but it had shaken Quinn to her very core. She hadn't been able to say a word while they were in the cab together and when they reached the club, she and Mike headed straight to the dance floor.

But now, with the music pulsing through her body, she was finally feeling like her old self again. She gave a tiny wave to Kurt, Santana, and Blaine, before turning to get a drink from the bar – but a flash of black hair streaked with blue made her stop in her tracks. Instinctively, she kept an eye trained on the figure, as she weaved in and out of people to make her way towards the bar.

"Can I get a bottle of water?" Quinn shouted above the noise, tapping her fingers against the bar top. Across the room, she saw Tina – blue streaked hair and all – stumble through the crowd, creating an erratic path amid the sea of people. _'She is way past drunk,'_ Quinn noted, assuming Tina was probably headed towards Sam.

"Here you go," the bartender slid a bottle of water towards her and she fished out several dollars, depositing them in his hand. Taking a long sip, Quinn breathed out a sigh of relief. With everybody else clearly occupied, she took a few minutes to compose herself – but her eyes couldn't stray too far from where Tina was.

"Hey," a familiar voice broke her thoughts and she whirled around to come face to face with Sam's chest.

"Hi," she replied, gripping her water bottle tight.

His eyes travelled over her and for the briefest of moments, Quinn felt completely vulnerable in his presence. "Come with me, I gotta get some fresh air,"

She was about to protest, but then he grabbed her wrist and a shock of electricity shot up her arm – suddenly, everything was a thousand times more vibrant than it was before. He guided her through the crowds, his hand pressed against the small of her back, and she smiled softly at the gesture. Despite the fact that his hand was burning through the fabric of her shirt, there was something comfortingly familiar about the whole thing.

Outside, the night air was cool and chilly, a stark contrast to the heat that occupied the nightclub. Quinn leaned against the building, shivering slightly, and watched, as Sam turned slowly in a circle, his eyes downcast. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the concrete pavement and sighed loudly, as if there was something that was weighing on his mind. Maybe it was the alcohol and the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but Quinn decided to speak up first.

"So, what's up?"

"What's up?" he scoffed. "Everything. Nothing,"

She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Stop being so cryptic,"

"You know, you never used to be like that when you were drunk," Sam pointed out, gesturing back to the club. Quinn paused, trying to figure out who he was talking about, until it dawned on her – Tina.

"Is this the first time you've seen her like this?"

"No. She got pretty wasted at graduation, but this is just…beyond," he winced, moving to stand next to her. He leaned his head back against the building, just inches away from her. "You were a lot more subdued. It's just…interesting, that's all,"

Quinn noticed his tone of voice – nostalgic and longing, and something in her gut told her that this wasn't the first time Sam had compared her and Tina. They were silent for a while and she was terrified to speak first this time. _'How do I always end up alone with him, anyway?'_

"So, that skirt…"

"I didn't have anything else to wear," she said quickly. "I live in sundresses, but nothing was really clubbing worthy, and I found this old thing when I was looking for my shoes…"

"Quinn," he moved to stand in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders to still her. "Relax, will you? I just wanted to say that it's…memorable,"

"Yeah, well, you certainly think so," she huffed.

Sam smirked, letting her shoulders go to lean back against the wall again. "What, you don't remember what happened the night you wore that skirt?"

Quinn let out a shaky breath, debating whether or not it was safe to stand up straight – considering the amount of drinks she had downed throughout the night, there was a 50/50 chance she could fall over. Instead, she turned her head to face him, nearly resting against his shoulder. "I remember you _rudely _interrupting me while I was trying to get the steps down for Nationals,"

"Oh, you're a liar," Sam chuckled, turning his face down towards her. "The door was wide open,"

"No, the door was closed – until you opened it and scared the hell out of me,"

"Oh, right, that's when you fell, right?" he pressed his lips together, stifling a laugh, which earned him a playful slap on the shoulder from Quinn.

"That was part of the routine!"

"Falling on your ass was a part of our Nationals performance?" he chuckled.

"_You're_ an ass," she mumbled, a soft smile playing at her lips. It dawned on her that this was the first time they had really spoken – without any underlying issues or hidden messages. It was consoling to know that they could still fall back into their old way of conversation and as Quinn looked into his familiar green eyes, she saw the old Sam – the one she fell in love with all those years ago.

She took a deep breath and unconsciously, her gaze fell on his lips. A flashback brought Quinn back to a time when those lips would send sparks across every inch of her bare skin and as her fingers brushed against the flimsy material of her pale, pink skirt, she could recall how his lips had tasted the night he interrupted her rehearsing for Nationals. That night, they had slipped over hers - gently at first, and then more persistent. She could feel them now, remnants left behind from over three years ago.

"Your eyes are so green," she murmured, the words tumbling out of her mouth on their own accord. She wanted to take it back, but being so close to Sam, remembering every curve of his face…she realized she didn't want to erase what she had said. _'Is that the drinks or is that just…'_

"You know, drunken words are sober thoughts," Sam whispered, his deep voice warming Quinn's skin all over. She could smell the booze on his breath, a familiar mixture of beer and whiskey that made her dizzy – but in the best possible way.

She took a deep breath, mind hazy from all the alcohol she had consumed, and said, "My feet hurt."

"I figured," he smirked. Wrinkling her nose, Quinn bent down and removed her shoes, grasping the heels in one hand. Straightening back up, her cheek brushed against the fabric of Sam's shirt and she froze – skin burned against skin and although the world was surely turning, she couldn't feel any of it. She looked up – whether to apologize or to protest or give in, she wasn't sure – but when her eyes locked with Sam's, she knew, once and for all: nothing had changed.

They looked different and maybe some of their personality quirks were different, but what had stayed throughout all the years apart, was the way they felt about each other. And Quinn, with her heart beating out of her chest and her eyes locked on his, felt lighter than she had in ages. She felt protected and safe under his gaze, as if she could conquer the world – as long as he was right there with her.

'_That's how it's always been with Sam. It's been freeing,'_ she thought hazily. Teetering slightly, she nearly fell forward, her head unbalanced in comparison to the rest of her body, but Sam caught her by the elbow, steadying her like he always had.

"Thanks,"

"No problem," he spoke softly, each word rolling off his tongue with ease. She felt him rub the pad of his thumb across the bare skin of her elbow and it was brief, but it sent a shock of electricity up her arm and she shivered. "You cold?" he asked.

"Just a little," Quinn replied, stepping closer to him. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of her muddled brain, she knew it was wrong to play into any advances. But the feeling she had had earlier in the night, the one where the night held a promise for change, was coming back with a vengeance. And this time, it was coming in the form of her ex-boyfriend, stepping closer towards her.

She could feel his breath against her face and she was pressed to him – as close as she could get without actually touching. The cold air suddenly became thick between them, weighted down and heavy from broken promises, longing, and several decisions made too late.

"Quinn," his voice came out strangled, dulled by the smoke from the club and an obvious frustration from the past three years. He moved his hand towards her face and she held her breath, waiting for his touch.

It never came.

Instead, a sudden outburst of loud laughter broke Sam and Quinn apart, both of them diverting their gazes away from each other. Quinn immediately felt sick to her stomach, the sudden movement sending her mind and insides into a tailspin. She tried to focus on what was happening at the entrance of the nightclub, but through her drunken haze, could only make out two figures. With a shaky hand, she steadied herself, using the wall for balance, and although her vision became clearer, her stomach felt like it was flipping inside out.

Stumbling out of the club, past the bouncers and the others who were waiting to get in, were two figures that looked suspiciously a lot like Mike and Tina. It was hard, under the cover of the night, to tell where one started and ended, but they tumbled across the pavement and parted the crowd, holding onto each other for dear life and squealing at the top of their lungs.

'_That can't be Mike and Tina,' _Quinn thought, feeling the familiar, disgusting bile rising in her throat. She had been straddling the line between drunk and wasted, but now, she recognised, she was heading straight into being sick. The night sky seemed to be falling and everything started coming in flashes - sweat breaking out on her forehead, a hand shooting out to grab a street pole, the light illuminating the features of the two people fused together.

And before Quinn could empty the contents of her stomach against the building of the club, she saw the two figures clearly, bathed under the artificial light, as their lips met.

'_Mike and Tina.'_

Quinn registered it, before clamping a hand over her mouth and running – barefoot – around the corner to throw up.


	8. Chapter 8: Not Ready To Make Nice

**Hey y'all!**

**First off, as always, thank you for all the kind, kind words you've written me about the last chapter. It was one of my favorites to write and I couldn't wait to get your feedback on it! :) A few of you were wondering why Quinn was feeling sick when she saw what happened between Tina and Mike - um, if you've ever been drunk or wasted, you would know the feeling you get when you just know that enough is enough for the night. Haha! Also, I just want to point out that even though yes, Quinn wants to be with Sam (and the feelings are probably mutual), she's not the same Quinn she was in high school. She's not selfish - even though she wants to be - and she doesn't want to hurt her friends, especially those she didn't make an effort to keep in touch with. Does that make sense? If it doesn't, shoot me a message - I'd be happy to discuss the inner workings of Quinn's twisted mind. :P**

**Anyway, here it is - Chapter 8! It's a little shorter, but full of explanation and heartfelt moments, so hopefully y'all will like it!**

**Please read, review, and enjoy! :) Xoxo.**

**Also: big congratulations to the Glee cast on winning at the Teen Choice Awards 2013! So happy Chord won and Lea Michele is the classiest lady around. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Not Ready to Make Nice**

_I'm not ready to make nice  
I'm not ready to back down  
I'm still mad as hell and  
I don't have time to go round and round and round_

Her fingers danced across the kitchen counter and her eyes stared intensely at the cell phone in front of her. It taunted her, an illuminated screen displaying Mike's number. Growing more and more impatient with herself, Quinn grabbed the phone and tapped it, holding the small device up to her ear. It rang once, twice, three times – before an automated message came through.

"Voicemail, Mike? Really?" she hissed, her jaw clenching in anger, before she hung up. "Like I'm going to leave you a message,"

Sarcasm dripped from her every word and suddenly, she was in the mood for some serious insult. Scrolling through her contacts, she pressed the familiar name and held it up to her ear.

"What the hell do you want?" an irritated, sleepy voice answered.

"You won't believe what happened last night," Quinn started.

"No. You are _not _calling me up this early to bitch," Santana's voice was scratchy and Quinn could hear her roll over in bed. "I'm hungover. We'll talk later," she snapped and the line went dead.

"Well, _that_ was helpful," Quinn scoffed, suddenly overwhelmed with frustration – didn't anybody care what she had seen the night before? _'No. Because nobody knows you saw it,' _she answered herself. Except for Sam, of course, but she wasn't going to call him. In Quinn's mind, he was already breaking up with Tina – it was an improbable fantasy, but she entertained it for a while. It made her actions from the previous night seem a little bit more justified.

"I'm calling Kurt," she announced to her empty apartment, stabbing her phone with her finger. It rang once, twice, three times, and then she heard Kurt's voice come through the phone.

"Morning, sunshine. I didn't think you'd be up this early after a crazy night,"

"Oh, that's right, you never get hangovers," she rolled her eyes. It was true – Kurt could get seriously messed up one night and then wake up the next morning as fresh as a daisy. As a result, he was the easiest person to hate after a night out.

"It's all that fabulousness I have," he chuckled. "How can I be of service to you, Miss Fabray?"

Quinn wrinkled her nose, trying to hold back a laugh. "You sound ridiculously happy, but I'm going to roll with it. I need to talk to you about something,"

"A secret?" Kurt gasped. "It's been so long since we've gotten some drama! I'll be at your place in ten minutes,"

"Okay,"

There was a pause and Quinn could hear some muffled voices on the other side, before Kurt spoke again. "Is it okay if Blaine tags along?"

"Didn't you guys break up?" she teased.

"Oh, labels are so 2010,"

"Whatever, Hummel. Just get your butt here in ten minutes. Blaine's, too,"

Quinn cut the line and tossed her phone onto her couch. She grabbed a bottle of water and sipped it delicately, the memories from last night trickling back to her hazily. She vaguely remembered walking outside with Sam and she certainly remembered his touch, how his skin had burned against hers in the cold night. Quinn couldn't remember who had leaned into whom first, but if she closed her eyes, she could still smell the beer and whiskey, the cologne, and just all of Sam – how he was, who he was, and what he was. She could recall the touch that never came, but if it had, Quinn knew how it would've played out – he would have kissed her and she would've seen fireworks and her whole world would start spinning on a different axis, where time and space didn't exist.

Quinn was so lost in her recollections that she almost didn't hear the doorbell. Shuffling towards it (despite waking up with a newfound energy, she was still half hungover), she flung upon the door, letting Kurt and Blaine saunter inside.

Kurt immediately handed her a box of Krispy Kremes and plopped himself on the couch, his grande nonfat mocha already touching his lips. "So, what's the problem?" he asked.

"Quinn, I can't believe how clean this place is, after last night!" Blaine marvelled, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

"It wasn't that messy to begin with – thanks for that," Quinn grinned at him, her eyebrow quirked. Blaine was a notorious neat freak and his attempts to clean up after everybody – even when he was drinking – didn't go unnoticed. By the time they left for the club, Quinn realized her apartment was basically spotless.

"Thank you for hosting an awesome pre-game," Blaine grinned, kissing her on the cheek affectionately, before sitting down beside Kurt.

"Hello, did I come here to talk about the magical powers of Pledge? No. Now, what is it that you have to tell us?" Kurt pressed.

Quinn sighed, setting the box of doughnuts on the coffee table. She sat precariously on the edge of her armchair, her hands in her lap. Pushing back a strand of hair, she swallowed once, and then spoke. "I don't know where you guys were last night…I mean, we all sort of lost track of each other once we got to the club. I guess you guys were with Santana and…I saw Mike and Tina. They were _blindingly_ drunk and stumbling out of the club and then they stumbled under this street lamp and…they kissed," Quinn let out a breath, wincing at the way Kurt and Blaine both pulled back from her.

"Are you sure? Maybe it was just a friendly kiss," Blaine reasoned.

She scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him. "Believe me; you don't kiss friends like that,"

"Are you sure it was them? No offense, Q, but you were pretty drunk, too,"

"I know what I saw, Kurt. It was Mike and Tina, just the way they used to be,"

"What happened after that?"

"I went around the corner to throw up," she shrugged and chuckled, when she saw her friends start to laugh. "Not from seeing them, just from…come on, I was drunk!"

"So you can't be a hundred percent sure that it was them?"

Quinn shook her head definitively. "No, I _know_ it was them," she insisted. "And now, Mike's phone goes straight to voicemail,"

"That doesn't mean anything! He's probably just hungover," Blaine pointed out, getting increasingly panicked.

"No, it definitely means something. Mike's attached to his phone – that relationship lasts longer than any of Santana's," Kurt explained.

"Which, let's be honest, isn't that great of an accomplishment,"

Quinn snorted, stifling a giggle with the back of her hand. "The point is, Mike and Tina are in the wrong and the worst part is that Sam saw the whole thing…God knows how he's feeling right now," she murmured.

Kurt glanced over at Blaine and they both scooted forward to the edge of the couch, matching smirks on their lips. "So _that's_ what this is all about," he said.

"What?" Quinn raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

"Sam Evans. You're still hung up on him," Kurt said simply, with a tilt of his head.

"I am not!" she protested. "I just think it really sucks when you catch someone cheating on you. I caught Finn and Rachel making eyes at each other all the time in high school and that hurt,"

Blaine frowned, his nose wrinkling in confusion. "Yeah, but didn't you cheat on Finn with Puck? And on Sam with Finn? And on Puck with Finn?"

"Shut. Up," she narrowed her eyes and flung a pillow across the room, hitting Blaine square in the chest. "The point is, it sucks to get cheated on – and imagine how much it sucks for him, considering they live together. What do I do?"

Kurt clasped his hands together, balancing them on his knees. "Quinn, you don't _do_ anything. Aside from Sam and us, nobody knows you saw anything happen between Mike and Tina,"

"But something _did_ happen!"

"But you're not the person to tell anybody that it did," Blaine whispered softly.

"Because I used to date Sam?"

"Because it's really none of your business," Kurt said simply. "If Sam and Tina have problems, then it's their responsibility to fix them – not yours. And if he's hurting…well, you swooping into the picture to get his head all messed up again isn't going to help,"

Quinn sighed, tucking her legs underneath her, as she scooted back in her armchair. "I just never pegged Tina as a girl who would ever cheat. They're happy together, aren't they?"

The minute the words left her mouth, she tasted how strange they sounded. Just a few days ago, she had been wishing for the downfall of Sam and Tina, but now, it was almost as if she was disappointed. _'Because I am. Because if they did break up eventually, I didn't want either of them to get hurt in the process,'_ she thought.

"They were," Blaine murmured, wringing his hands together. His voice was soft, almost unrecognizable, but it was loud enough for Kurt and Quinn to focus their gaze on him.

"What?"

Blaine took a deep breath, his fingernails digging into his palms. Exhaling slowly, he steadied himself before speaking. "When you guys graduated, things got really bad. It wasn't like Glee club couldn't live without you or anything, because Marley and Jake and Kitty and Ryder…they were really talented. But it wasn't the same. Nothing was ever really the same,"

"Why does everybody always say that? We just graduated - it wasn't like we died," Quinn scoffed.

"But that's what it felt like," Blaine said defensively, his eyes blazing. "We were left behind and we couldn't do a single thing about it, because we knew you guys had to go. We knew you had to move on and be great, at whatever you did and that hurt the most – that we understood that," he sighed, getting to his feet. "The Glee club didn't break, but we did,"

"Blaine, I'm really sorry, but…what does this have to do with Sam and Tina?" Kurt asked gently.

"We all fell apart, each in our own little ways, but after a while, we started to fall together. Artie, Joe, and Sugar became inseparable, Sam and I started hanging out a lot, and Brittany…well, Britt's always been popular," Blaine paused, his head cocked to one side, as if the past year was suddenly coming back to him little by little. "But Tina…she had a hard time,"

Quinn wanted to look away. If she was being completely honest, Blaine's story telling was making her feel immensely guilty for not trying to keep in touch with everybody at McKinley. But there was something in his eyes that held her there – not guilt, but compassion and understanding. It still hurt, all the same.

"She didn't have anybody to turn to. Artie was busy and moved on. All her girlfriends had moved out of the country. And Mike…she had a tough time with the breakup, but she never let it show. Instead, all of that anger and pent up frustration would come out in Glee, whenever she demanded solos and degraded other people. She took it the worst, I think," Blaine fidgeted slightly, before sitting back down.

"I tried reasoning with her and she toned down a bit. We started hanging out and I guess she kind of developed this crush on me…believe me, I thought it was weird, too," he chuckled. "She explained it to me, though. She missed Mike – more than any of us realized – and she just transferred those feelings to me. I told her I understood it, because I missed Kurt, and we got over it. Along the way, I started inviting her out with Sam and I. Dinners, workouts, rehearsals for Regionals…we kind of became a trio and we stuck together,"

"Blaine, we know all of this, but what does it have to do with Sam and Tina?" Quinn pressed on.

He sighed, eyebrows furrowed, as he tried to string together a coherent combination of words. "When Kurt and I got back together after Regionals and Brittany left to MIT, Sam and Tina fell together. Literally, that's what it was like. Our trio tapered down to a duo and they just…they fit right, in that moment. And they were really happy. Tina introduced him to her parents and they used to Skype Nashville every other weekend. They went to prom and she went to all his football games and he even went to those artsy plays she loves. They were really adorable together, just really in sync, and I guess…" Blaine trailed off, noticing the way Quinn's nose was scrunched with distaste. "I guess you had to be there to believe it,"

"So why the sudden change, like you said? I mean, they still look pretty happy to me," Kurt pointed out.

"Because you know Sam and you know Tina. But you don't know Sam _and _Tina. I do," Blaine explained. "When she got accepted into Pace and Sam got his acceptance to NYU Law, they just threw caution to the wind. It was "the next logical step" for them to take as a couple, to get a place together. I told them not to do it, that Sam should come and live with me and Tina could get her own place, like she's always wanted. But they're stubborn together. And their parents weren't stopping them, so…they started to live together. But they started to fall apart,"

"What, like…they fight a lot?" Quinn asked curiously.

Blaine shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Deep down, they both love each other and they'd never hurt one another. It's more like…they're drifting apart. And instead of fighting to stay together, they're just letting the distance become greater and greater,"

There was silence, as they both tried to process Blaine's interpretation of the relationship. Quinn couldn't fathom why Tina would intentionally pull away from Sam, but she was beginning to understand how they got together in the first place.

Deep in her heart, Quinn had been hoping that the entire relationship was some sort of vengeful payback or it was just for show, but knowing that it had been real – that it was real – made Quinn's heart break a little.

* * *

"Mike Chang, you open this damn door right now!" Quinn shouted, her fists pounding against the heavy oak. It was nine o'clock at night and after not hearing from her best friend for the whole day, she had done what any sane, rational person would've done – she walked to his apartment and was now banging on his front door with a vengeance.

"You don't answer when I call you, you don't answer when Kurt calls you, and you don't answer when Blaine calls you! Do I need to get Tina…" she never had a chance to finish her sentence, because in one swift movement, the door flung open and Mike's hand shot out to pull her into the apartment. "Mike!" she shrieked.

"Are you crazy? You're going to wake up the entire building!" he hissed.

Quinn shook him off and glared at him, her hands on her hips. "Are _you_ crazy?!" she hissed. "First of all, I thought you died!"

"That's a little overdramatic," Mike rolled his eyes and moved slowly towards his couch. Quinn's eyes darted to the makeshift living room (really just a corner of his entire apartment) and wrinkled her nose. There were blankets everywhere, empty beer bottles littering the coffee table, and wrappers strewn across the floor. Mike picked up a beer from the cooler beside his tattered couch and flopped down to sit. "You're wasting your time, you know – coming over here to check on me,"

"Excuse me?" she raised her eyebrows, going to stand in front of him. He hadn't shaved, his hair was a mess, and he was clearly still in his pajamas – her best friend was seriously losing his mind. "Sorry for _caring_, Michael, but after last night, I thought it was the right thing to do,"

"There's no such thing as the right thing," he shrugged.

Quinn scoffed and started to pick up the trash around the room. Grabbing a pillow, she tossed it towards him, hitting his stomach. "There is such a thing. It's called not ignoring your best friend's calls. It's called not ignoring your other friend's calls," she moved to sit next to him and looked him straight in the eye. "It's called not getting wasted and hooking up with your best bro's girlfriend,"

Mike's head snapped to meet her gaze, a fire burning in his eyes. "What?"

"I saw you and Tina last night," she murmured, her hands twisting nervously. She knew what Kurt and Blaine had told her – that it was none of her business to meddle in Sam and Tina's relationship. _'But this isn't Sam and Tina's relationship. This is Mike.'_

"What did you see, exactly?"

Quinn took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "I was outside the club and you guys stumbled out and then you kissed underneath the street lamp light, so I know it was you,"

He automatically averted his eyes. "That was…she had something in her eye,"

"Mike!"

"Aw, come on, Quinn, are you really going to sit here and lecture me on the disappointment you feel over me hooking up with my ex – if it even happened?" he added the last part with an uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes, I am, because it's wrong! You know it's wrong! You saw how much it screws us all up, all the cheating and going behind each other's backs…it's just trouble,"

"Says the girl who was a notorious cheater back in high school," Mike spat.

"Yeah, in _high school_," she dumped all the wrappers and empty bottles onto the floor, standing up to face Mike head-on. "Tina is with Sam. I know you still love her, but…"

"Hypocrite," he hissed.

Quinn stumbled slightly at his voice – calm and rational, but biting all the same. "What?"

"You heard me," he polished off the last of his beer, getting up to stare down at her. "You're a hypocrite. You cheated on all your boyfriends, you date losers and lead them on, and now you're attacking the way I choose to find love? You're the one running away from it! You won't admit to it, Quinn. And until you do, you're going to keep being this perfect do-gooder that puts herself on a pedestal – and you're going to end up fucking lonely,"

"I'm…" Quinn stammered, tears springing to her eyes. _'No. He can't see me cry,'_ she threw her so-called best friend a pointed look. "Maybe I run away from love and maybe I'm a little messed up, but I don't turn my back on my friends – how's Sam going to feel, when he finds out about you and Tina?"

"The same way Tina feels, ever since you and Sam met up again in New York," he shot back. "Admit it, Quinn – you're still in love him. And a part of you is glad that this obstacle popped up, because you know what it means? It means you can be there to help Sam pick up the pieces. You like the broken ones or the ones you can't have – you've always had a thing for them, even in high school. The only difference is that now you just wait for someone else to screw things up, before you move in,"

"You're the one who screwed it up, Mike," she accused him, stepping closer towards the door. She hadn't come to his apartment to get analysed and attacked for how she loved, and the pain and anger that bubbled within her was about to explode – she knew that she'd have to leave if she wanted to salvage the pieces of their friendship.

"There was nothing to screw up in the first place!" he shouted, sliding one foot ahead of the other in a swift move, and trapping her between the front door and himself. "Come on, you know Sam and Tina are all wrong for each other. Isn't this what you wanted? To have Sam all to yourself?"

Quinn's eyes widened, before her gaze turned cold. Crossing her arms, she spoke with an even, unwavering voice. "At the expense of someone else's heartache? No, Mike, that's not what I wanted,"

"What, you suddenly think Sam and Tina are meant for each other now?" Mike scoffed.

"No, I don't think that," she whispered softly. "But they're not together out of revenge or convenience or because they didn't have anything better to do, Mike," Quinn lifted her head up to look at him in the eyes and she winced at the sight of how frazzled and undone her best friend was.

"Well then, please enlighten me,"

"They _love_ each other,"she said, biting back the bitterness that came with putting the words out into the universe. "And I, for one, am not going to stand in the way of that – regardless of whether I'm still in love with Sam or not,"

Quinn poked a finger into his chest forcefully, before yanking the front door open and slamming it shut behind her. She knew Mike wasn't going to come out and apologize – he was far too stubborn and hard headed for that. Instead, she stalked her way into the elevator and back into the lobby, only managing a breath of relief when she finally felt the cool night air whip across her face.

The city was dark and loud, and sounds from every which way seemed to lash at her from different directions. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an effort to stay warm, Quinn made her way to the long line of taxis, slipping into one easily. She rattled off her apartment address and leaned back into the sticky cab seat, her nose wrinkling at the faint smell of meat and sweat that hung in the air. Just as she was about to roll the window down, her phone buzzed softly against her thigh and she immediately pulled it out of her jeans pocket – a part of her thought that maybe Mike was actually calling to apologise.

_Sam Evans._

The cab lurched to a stop and Quinn paid the driver wordlessly, her gaze never leaving the small device in her hands. But before she could swipe her finger across the screen, a familiar voice interrupted her.

"Guess you weren't going to pick up?"

Quinn jumped slightly, her eyes trying to focus to the darkness that blanketed the city. Squinting, she saw a familiar figure leaning against her apartment building. He pushed off with one foot and walked towards her, his broad shoulders encompassing her space. She let out the breath she had been holding, tucking her phone back into her jeans.

"I was contemplating," she mumbled, her thoughts blurred by his sudden appearance. Sam's hair was tousled, like he had just rolled out of bed or like he had been tugging at it in frustration. His eyes were bright, but his posture sagged, as if the will to hold himself up was too much. Briefly, Quinn wondered who or what had put him through the ringer. He was obviously frazzled and disturbed, his shirt rumpled and messy.

As if he read her mind, Sam took a deep breath, before announcing softly, "Tina and I got into a fight."

"Oh," she nodded slowly, dragging out the word. Her fingers clenched her apartment keys tightly and she felt her heart hammer against her ribs – how was it possible that only seven words made her suddenly hope for the future?

Because even though Quinn had yelled at Mike about accepting Sam and Tina as a couple, she couldn't deny that there was a part of her – perhaps a bigger part than she had originally thought – that still wanted Sam for herself. But did she still want him? Or did she only want him because he belonged to someone else? That was – and always would be – Quinn's biggest downfall when it came to love. But she had tried so hard to convince herself that she didn't want or need Sam, that the butterflies that showed up in her stomach every time he came around was only because he was the one ex-boyfriend she never had proper closure with. It was crazy, because she saw Finn with Rachel all the time and she never got jealous. She saw Puck, with his endless trail of girls, and she was unfazed by each one. But why did it hurt with Sam? Why did her heart want something her head knew was wrong?

"Why…why are you here, Sam?" Quinn finally asked, tilting her head to one side. He could've gone to anyone – Mike, Blaine, Finn. But instead, he had come to her.

The city around them fell quiet, almost as if New York was holding its breath, waiting for his response.

"I needed you."


	9. Chapter 9: I Knew You That Way

**Last chapter, you saw Sam go to visit Quinn and I sort of left it at a cliffhanger. If you were hoping for a satisfying chapter ending with this one...I apologize in advance! **

**In the meantime, look - new chapter! Have at it, y'all. :)**

**And I still don't own Glee.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: I Knew You That Way**

Previously…

"_Why…why are you here, Sam?" Quinn finally asked, tilting her head to one side. He could've gone to anyone – Mike, Blaine, Finn. But instead, he had come to her._

_The city around them fell quiet, almost as if New York was holding its breath, waiting for his response._

"_I needed you."_

Quinn nodded slowly, letting Sam's words sink in. She felt her skin prickle with a growing fire, reaching all the way up to the back of her neck and she tried hard to fight the proud smile that was growing on her lips. A part of her knew it was wrong for him to say such pretty words, but the flutter in her heart was clearly telling her otherwise. Letting out a shaky sigh, she looked up at him, expecting to see regret or remorse – instead, all she saw was a trace of a smirk.

"Okay," she breathed out.

Several minutes later, Quinn closed her front door behind her, trying to still her shaking fingers. She quickly glanced around her apartment, wincing when she noticed the pile of dirty dishes and the messy living room. Sidestepping Sam, who was awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot, Quinn stealthily pulled out two bottles of water, handing one to him.

"So…" she started.

"This is weird, right?" he blurted out, taking the bottle from her. His fingers brushed against hers and Quinn tried desperately to keep her emotions in check. "I should've just called Blaine, or even Puck," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

Quinn sighed, motioning him to settle down on the couch. Taking a seat next to him – but not too close – she bit her lip, trying to think of something to say. "I don't mind that you're here. Although a little warning would've been nice," she added as an afterthought.

"Sorry 'bout that,"

"It's okay," Quinn smiled softly. She took a long sip of water, relishing the way the cool liquid slid down her throat. "What's…what was so urgent?"

Sam leaned back against the couch, running a hand over his face in frustration. Quinn knew he was trying to sort out his thoughts – it was a fairly new characteristic for him and once again, she was reminded of how long it had been since they last saw each other. The old Sam would've just said what was on his mind, regardless of how idiotic or meaningless it might've been. But Quinn noticed that he chose his words carefully now – maybe it was just around her, but his caution was definitely something new.

"Tina and I got into a fight."

"You mentioned that,"

"Yeah, well, it was really stupid," he huffed.

Silence fell between them and Quinn pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossing them Indian-style. She noticed the way his eyes lingered a second longer on her bare legs and she felt a shiver creep up on her – warm and safe, the way he always made her feel. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Is it weird?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Sam, if you're just going to point out how weird everything is, then you shouldn't have come here in the first place,"

"Alright, alright," he shook his head, as if trying to get all his thoughts to settle down properly. "I came home from a workout and she was doing the dishes. I went to get a glass of orange juice and when I go to put it in the sink, she just…freaks out. Starts rambling about how I can't take care of myself and how she's not going to clean up after me anymore,"

Quinn's nose wrinkled in distaste and she tried to resist ripping Tina's name to shreds. Instead, she prodded Sam to go on.

"I stood there and just sort of took it," he shrugged. "Until she said that I was spoiled and couldn't appreciate hard work – then I kind of lost it,"

"Wait a second, this is coming from Tina?" Quinn asked, holding up her hand to stop him. As much as she wanted to put her friend on blast, she knew that it was out of character – Tina was bossy and shy and kind, but she wasn't _mean_. That had been Quinn's job in high school.

Sam nodded. "Strange, right? I guess there was probably some other reason why she said it, maybe she was just in a sour mood or something, but I just lost my mind. So I threw the glass into the sink and started shouting back," he said sheepishly.

"That sounds fair," Quinn replied in a steely voice.

"Everything just came to a head when she accused me of being different ever since she invited you and Mike over. I kind of threw her relationship with Mike back in her face,"

"You mean how they're exes?"

Sam rolled his eyes and snorted. "No, I mean how they're exes who get drunk and make out with each other outside of the club," he deadpanned.

"Um…" Quinn's eyes grew wide and she couldn't decide what was a more appropriate response – laughter or genuine concern. Luckily, Sam caught sight of her expression and he straightened up to a proper sitting position to face her.

"Yeah, I saw what happened," he shrugged.

Quinn forced herself to bring her eyes to meet his. Underneath the ever-present green sparkle, there was a resignation and defeat that she hated to see. How unfair it was that Sam Evans – who had never been anything but loyal, kind-hearted, and caring – only got loved by horrible people with screwed up intentions.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

Sam laughed dryly. "It's not your fault. _I'm_ sorry. You know, for not checking up on you after you got sick,"

"I was just…drunk," Quinn chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. "What did Tina say, after you told her you knew about the kiss?"

"It's _Tina_. She started crying and apologizing and begging me to forgive her and…I don't remember what happened after that, but the next thing I know – I'm outside your apartment," Sam sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. "This is so weird,"

Impulsively, Quinn grabbed a pillow and whacked him on the arm with it – his reaction was to look at her in complete disbelief and she smiled back. "It's not as bad as you think it is," she shrugged.

"She _cheated _on me, Quinn,"

"Maybe it's more complicated than that,"

Sam stared at her, puzzled and she immediately averted her eyes from him, because she knew exactly what was going through his mind – _of course_ she would side with Tina. After all, she had cheated on Sam once, too. And yet, Quinn knew that his thoughts weren't completely baseless. A part of her wanted to side with Tina, because underneath it all, she knew that having an ex-boyfriend still in love with you was one of the greatest temptations in the world. It made you do ridiculous things – she had known it back in high school and she was learning it again now.

Because regardless of how stubborn she was in admitting her feelings, Quinn couldn't brush aside the fact that a part of her (okay, maybe all of her) was still in love with Sam Evans – or at the very least, incredibly obsessed with him.

"Was it complicated when you cheated on me with Finn?" he asked, his jaw set in anger.

"That was me chasing a crown and a title," she explained tiredly.

"So what was Tina chasing?"

Quinn stayed silent for a while, knowing that her answer would either make him angry or hurt him at his very core. But as much as she didn't want to say it, she knew he needed to hear the truth, because everybody else was going to sugar coat the situation (well, except for maybe Santana). Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she said softly, "She was chasing love, Sam."

"With Mike?" he turned to face Quinn and for the briefest of moments, Quinn saw – for the first time – how Sam must have looked when he found out about her and Finn in high school all those years ago. There was a disappointment and sadness that made her heart ache for him and she cursed herself for ever making him feel that way. In a twisted way, she felt like she owed it to him, some sort of an explanation for Tina's behaviour.

"I guess," she shrugged. "But I can't say anything for sure, Sam. I haven't spoken to Tina in nearly two years and we've drifted so far apart since then…but I know how Mike feels. He's still in love with her – I'm sure you figured that out,"

Sam hesitated, letting the words sink in. "Yeah, but she's with me now," he argued lamely.

"You know they didn't have the cleanest breakup – it was just because of distance," she pointed out.

"Neither did we, Quinn, but you don't see me cheating on Tina with you, do you?" Sam demanded, his voice rising. She shrank back in her seat, feeling her heart pound against her ribs. "Sorry, that was…out of line. I'm just so _frustrated_,"

"I know," she nodded understandingly. "But – out of curiosity - who are you frustrated with?"

"All of them!" Sam shouted, leaping to his feet. "Tina, for getting wasted and hooking up with Mike! Rachel, for ever talking us into moving to New York! Even freaking _Blaine_, who kept his damn mouth shut all this time!"

Quinn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, surveying the way Sam clomped around her living room erratically. His Southern accent had made a strong reappearance and she'd by lying if she said she didn't find it the least bit attractive. He was still ranting and going on about how unfair the world was, when what he said finally registered with Quinn – something about Blaine.

Waving her arms around to get his attention, she squinted at him and asked, "What was it that you said about Blaine?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow, a puzzled expression settling over his features. "What?"

"Blaine. You said something about Blaine, keeping his mouth shut," she prodded him.

"Oh. I just meant…" Sam took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down, plopping onto the couch seat next to her. "Look, Blaine's never really been a big fan of Tina and me going out,"

"Why not?"

"I don't know, he's always had an issue with it. Sometimes I try to talk to him about Tina and he just changes the subject. And the three of us used to hang out together all the time, but now he's always making up excuses. And every time I call him out on it, he's just not…really there," Sam shrugged and Quinn's heart ached for him. Not only did he see his girlfriend cheat on him, he was feeling abandoned and disconnected by the people he thought loved him most. Mike, who had been Sam's best friend from the very beginning, was now another piece in a love triangle. Blaine, who had become a comforting shoulder, wouldn't support him at all.

When she turned to look at him, Quinn immediately recognized the expression on his face – defeat, anger, and sadness clouded every beautiful feature. Without even thinking twice about it, she reached her hand out and placed it over his clenched fist, her thumb rubbing against the rough skin on the back of his hand. She felt him flinch slightly, before relaxing under her touch. Warmth settled over them and Quinn tried to steady her breathing – how long had it been since she had felt Sam's skin against hers?

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, her eyes still focused on her fingers ghosting across Sam's hand.

"For what?"

Quinn sighed and forced herself to meet his gaze. The defeated, angry, sad look that had been written across his face was gone, replaced by a sincere, searching, and – did she really even want to think it? – _hopeful_ expression. "For not being there. I moved to New York and I just sort of…didn't bother keeping in touch. Maybe if I did, I would've been a lot more understanding or helpful or…" she trailed off, looking away from him. The apology had been a long-time coming, hovering on the tip of her tongue ever since she had reached the city. And now, in the near-darkness of her own living room, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders, as the words finally escaped her.

There was a beat of silence between them, before Quinn felt his callused finger brush against her chin, bringing her face up to his. The close contact made her breathless and sparked a slow, burning fire in the pit of her stomach.

"Quinn,"

She expected his voice to come out shaky and nervous, but like so many other things, she was wrong. Instead, Sam's eyes were full of wide-eyed wonder, as if he discovered her for the first time. His gaze made her feel vulnerable and naked and even though it was all so uncharacteristically Sam Evans – assured and confident – Quinn couldn't pull away.

Unsuspectingly, Sam's hand brushed against her hip and her breath caught at the sudden contact. Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time, and when Quinn finally let out a shaky breath, she felt his lips – those familiar, familiar lips – slide over her own, fitting perfectly just like they did, three years ago.

* * *

"Pick up, pick up, _come on_, pick up the phone," she mumbled under her breath, her foot tapping impatiently against her kitchen cabinet. When an automated voice answered her, she cursed and stabbed her finger at her phone screen, effectively sending Mike's number into oblivion. Placing it back on its dock, Quinn ran a hand through her already dishevelled hair and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in a desperate attempt to calm her thoughts.

The previous night burned through her blood and she hadn't been able to catch a second of sleep since Sam had walked out her door. The memory put a smile on her face - there was no epiphany that came with their kisses; instead, there was a resignation, almost an acceptance. She could still feel the lingering traces of his fingertips across her bare skin and the thought made her breath catch – was it possible to be in love with a memory?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on her front door and she jumped off the kitchen counter, fingers automatically searching for a nearby knife. The knocking continued until she was halfway across the room and she heard a voice call out, "Quinn!"

"Mike?" she asked, her fingers clutched around the handle of a knife.

"Can you just let me in?"

Quinn scurried the last few steps, flinging open her front door to reveal someone who looked a lot like Mike Chang. His hair was mussed, his eyelids drooped, and his cheeks were sunken, as if somebody had literally sucked all the life out of him. "What happened to you?"

"Were you going to stab me with a knife?" he smirked, strolling into her apartment, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans.

"Do you want something?" she shot back bitterly, slamming the door behind her. "Because the last time I checked, you were busy plotting the demise of Sam and Tina,"

"And you were so gracious in pointing that out," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. Quinn felt tears spring to her eyes, but she fought them back. She hated fighting with Mike because it just didn't feel natural, but did he have to be so damn stubborn all the time? "What are you doing here, Mike?" she asked, tiredly, placing the knife back in its place.

He leaned back against her kitchen island, resting his elbows on the marble counter behind him. Standing there, Mike's expression softened and Quinn started to see her best friend slowly coming back. She took a tentative step closer and he held out his arms to her. A look passed between them and before Quinn could even process what was happening, she felt herself launching into his grasp, her face buried in his t-shirt. It smelled of beer and sweat and Hugo Boss cologne, but it was so distinctly Mike that she melted into him anyway.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I was a jerk. I was drunk and then I was hung over and then I turned into an asshole. I'm sorry,"

Quinn smiled, squeezing her arms around him a little tighter. "I'm sorry, too," she whispered, sighing into his chest before pulling away. "So…what are you going to do?"

Mike let out a wry chuckle, running a hand over his face in a futile attempt to wake himself up. "I have no clue. I tried calling Tina, but it goes straight to voicemail. Apparently she's locked herself in her room and won't come out,"

"Because she's scared or just depressed?"

"Who knows," he shrugged. "That's just what Santana told me,"

"Have you talked to Sam?"

Mike snorted, making his way towards the couch. He flopped down and rested his elbows on his knees, as a contemplative look clouded his face. "I know I should. I know it's the right thing to do. And he obviously knows, otherwise Tina wouldn't be this crazy about it," he paused, taking in a sigh. "But I'm terrified,"

"Of Sam?" she asked, sitting next to him.

"Is that surprising?" he asked. Quinn nodded in response and he shook his head, trying to get his thoughts straight. "Quinn, he's the most protective person there is. He's loyal and trustworthy and his morals are strong. Even if Tina and I used to date, regardless of how messy the breakup was between us…it doesn't matter what the circumstances are. In Sam's mind, cheating is cheating. And when it's between his girlfriend and his best friend…it's worse," Mike groaned, leaning back into the couch. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"

"No, you're not," Quinn said, without hesitation.

"I _never_ cheat, Q. I'm almost as loyal as Sam is, for God's sakes and look what I did," he slumped down in his seat, defeated.

"Mike, you're not a bad person. You're vulnerable and you love hard, but that's not bad – it's fearless," Quinn swallowed, trying hard to fight back tears. There was an overwhelming sense of guilt that came over her – how could Mike feel so terrible after helping Tina cheat, but Quinn barely felt any remorse for what she and Sam did?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice when Mike straightened up, his stare fixed on her. "Wait a second…something's off with you," he pointed out. "What happened? Did something happen last night after you left my apartment?"

Quinn's eyes grew wide and she silently cursed her long-standing friendship with Mike. He could read her like an open book and despite the fact that she was incredibly gifted at hiding her feelings, it just didn't work with him. "What do you mean?"

Mike raised his eyebrows sceptically, his stare becoming more and more intense. With each passing moment, she felt herself slowly break down. Quinn knew that she could easily avoid telling him anything – but for some reason, it didn't feel right. She had made such a big fuss the previous night, about Mike cheating with Tina, that it seemed immoral to withhold that sort of information from her best friend.

"Quinn…" he started, his tone already warning her.

"Sam came to see me last night," she confessed, in the smallest voice she could muster. Silence immediately filled the room, which made her fidget uncomfortably. Beside her, Mike slowly stood up and circled the room at a painfully drawn-out pace. _'He hates me. He's going to call me a hypocritical bitch,'_ she thought frantically. But before she could say anything to defend herself, Mike stopped pacing, his hands loosely resting on his hips. He stared at her intently and just as Quinn was bracing herself to get the full brunt of his anger; her best friend did the unexpected.

Mike burst into laughter.

"Um…" her eyes wide, Quinn tried to figure out what exactly was so hilarious about the entire situation and when he still didn't answer her, she frowned up at him. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"I'm so stupid," he shook his head, shoulders still shaking. "_Of course_ he came to see you! When has it ever been different?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, fearing for her best friend's sanity. "What are you talking about?"

Mike glanced down at her, a grin spreading across his lips. "As much as you love the broken ones, he goes to you for validation. It's just…after all this time…" he trailed off and Quinn frowned at him, growing more and more frustrated by the second.

'_Doesn't he realize how messed up this is? That we're literally back to where we were in high school, all those years ago? Doesn't he realize that he cheated? That I cheated?'_ she thought to herself, biting back a snarky smile, when it dawned on her that they were all cheaters in this situation – for once, she wasn't the only one going behind people's backs. But regardless, Mike's all-knowing smirk was annoying Quinn to no end.

"Explain, please," she snapped.

Mike chuckled softly, taking a seat on her coffee table, nudging his knee against hers. He took a deep breath and met her gaze. "Everybody always says Tina and I are meant to be together, that we have this weird, electric…chemistry. You've said it, Sam's said it, even Mr. Schue said it – and that was before we were even dating,"

"What's your point?"

"The point is…well, there's no real point. It's more of an observation. Because just like Tina and I, you and Sam are the same way," Mike grinned. "You're both connected, tethered together, somehow. Maybe it's because you helped him through some really tough times, maybe it's when he brought you back after the Puck break up, but you guys have always had this connection,"

Quinn's jaw hung slack, her eyebrows furrowed. Her heart pounded against her bones and a little voice inside her head told her that Mike wasn't angry or disappointed or hurt. He was understanding, or trying to, at least. But still, she couldn't be too sure. "You're not mad?" she asked hesitantly.

"Why would I be mad? It's sort of even, isn't it? I kissed Tina, you kissed Sam,"

"I never told you I kissed Sam,"

Silence fell between them for the second time, but this time, it was comfortable and free of the unanswered questions from before.

"You didn't have to," he chuckled softly at her bewildered eyes, before crushing her in a fierce hug. For the first time that week, Quinn felt a weight lift off her shoulders and the world suddenly seemed like a much brighter place. There had been no real resolution to their situation and she didn't know if Tina knew about her kiss with Sam and Quinn really didn't know what was going to happen with them, but it all slipped out of her thoughts.

She had her best friend back.

* * *

After she and Mike polished off half of the take-out menu from a nearby Chinese restaurant and he had left her apartment with a happy smile, Quinn was busying herself with the dishes. It wasn't until she managed to be elbow-deep in suds, when her phone started to ring, the sound effectively scaring her. Cursing silently under her breath, she reached over and unlocked the small device, quickly putting whoever it was on speaker.

"Hello?" Quinn held the phone to her ear, not even bothering to check who it was that was calling.

"Hey, Quinn," his lazy, familiar Southern drawl filled her ears with a longing and for the first time that night, she felt her heart flutter uncontrollably.

"Hi, Sam,"

"Let me in, would you?" he chuckled and Quinn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you…are you _outside_?" she asked incredulously, drying her hands quickly and holding the phone up against her ear. Drawing back the curtains, she peered down at the nearly empty street and a giggle rose in her throat. There, leaning against a lamp post, was Sam, his hair darkened and matted down by the slight drizzle, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Why should I let you come up?" she grinned playfully, waving her fingers at him through her window.

"Why don't you find out?" he responded, pushing off from the lamp post and walking towards the apartment entrance. Quinn smiled, her heart beating a million miles a minute.

There were a handful of reasons why inviting Sam into her apartment was a terrible idea. The obvious was that they had just cheated – all of them, all on each other. But as she pressed the intercom to let him come up, Quinn knew that none of it really mattered. _'Tina will understand. I mean, she'll freak out and might try to kill me in my sleep, but she knows…I'm sure she does. It's the same with her and Mike. Maybe even more so,'_ she thought to herself.

"Hi," Quinn couldn't hide the grin that took up half her face, as she leaned against her open door. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt, he looked like the perfect combination between city and country. She watched him run his fingers through his hair and her breath caught, as her eyes fell on the way his arms tensed – it was pathetic, really. Shaking her head to settle her thoughts, Quinn put a hand on her hip and straightened her shoulders, determined not to crumble under his gaze.

But before she could open her mouth to say anything, Sam was already stepping into her apartment. "I probably shouldn't be here," he mumbled.

"You know, if you keep pointing out all the things you _shouldn't_ be doing, maybe that's a sign," she chuckled softly, closing the door behind her. Taking a moment to appreciate the way Sam's figure filled up her small apartment; Quinn almost didn't realize it when he turned to face her.

"A sign for what?" his usually bright green eyes were dark and his gaze didn't waver, as he took a step closer. Quinn felt her breath catch in her throat and her tongue turned to sandpaper, before cursing silently – despite working so hard to protect her self-image of a strong, independent woman, here she was, literally falling at Sam's feet all over again.

"That maybe whatever you're doing is wrong," she shrugged, sidestepping him discreetly. Holding her head up high, she made her way towards the living room. But before she got two steps ahead, a firm grip on her wrist pulled her back.

"What if I don't care?" he murmured, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Quinn twisted her wrist, trying to break free from his grasp, but it didn't work – instead, Sam brought her closer to him and she was having trouble concentrating on putting together a coherent sentence.

"That's…your own…" she stammered pathetically. Sam's eyes burned into her and with his free hand, he traced the outline of her cheek. Her heart stopped momentarily at the feel of his skin against hers – his callused fingers ghosted over her open lips and Quinn's eyes fluttered at the gentle touch. "Sam…" she whispered, her voice strangled with a conflict she couldn't quite understand.

Had she known it was going to end up like this? When she let him into her apartment, did she expect some sort of a repeat of their time together? The thoughts clouded her memory, quickly stamped out by the bright, burning fire brought on by Sam's presence. She could feel him against her, their bodies pressed close enough that she couldn't tell where one started and the other ended. She felt her own fingers move through his blonde hair and her eyes searched every part of his face, trying to commit it to memory.  
When she felt Sam's arm slip around her waist and pull her up to face him, Quinn didn't even think about what came next – she cupped his cheek in her hand and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. She pulled away, for the briefest of moments, to gauge his reaction, and when she saw Sam's eyes were intense and hungry, Quinn knew how the night would end up.

They would kiss each other senseless, explore and memorize each other all over again. There would be no talking. Quinn would feel his fingers dig into her flesh.

Their bodies would meet and fit together perfectly again.


	10. Chapter 10: An Honest Mistake

**And I'm back! I swear, I didn't abandon this fic, it's just taking a while to get all the words right. :)**

**I'm not the happiest with this chapter, I actually think it flip-flops around quite a bit, but it needed to get written and put up so I can move this plot along. Lol. Just a heads up - I'm starting to think of how to end this monster of a fic, so if anybody has any suggestions, let me know! :P**

**In the meantime, please read and leave a review to satisfy my author heart. :)**

**And I don't own Glee. Still. Duhhhh.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: An Honest Mistake**

_Ready and waiting for a heart worth the breaking,  
but I'd settle for an honest mistake in the name of  
one sweet love.  
Savor the sorrow to soften the pain, sip on  
the southern rain  
as I do, I don't look don't touch don't do anything,  
but hope that there is a you._

"Quinn Fabray!"

The sudden noise made her jump up with a start, her covers falling dangerously low on her chest. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she glanced at her clock and cursed softly. It was 9 AM and there was no way she'd be able to make her Psychology class in an hour. Sighing in resignation that she'd have to skip, Quinn leaned back on her elbows and let her head fall to her other side – where a peaceful, sleeping Sam Evans laid. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath and she reached over to brush back several strands of hair that swept across his closed eyelids. A smile curled her lips when she heard a soft sigh escape his mouth and his eyes finally fluttered open.

"Morning," Sam murmured, pulling himself up to drop a kiss on Quinn's bare shoulder.

"Hi," she whispered back. Time seemed to stop between them, as they drank each other in and with the morning glow dancing across their skin – Quinn was fascinated. Nights and mornings had never been like _this _before, especially not with Sam.

When they had dated back in high school, it was all giggles and laughter, silliness and being carefree. It was a teenage love, high one minute and low the next. But now, lying in bed next to each other, with the seriousness of what they had just done the night before…it was all fitting together perfectly. _'We're older now. Smarter, wiser,'_ Quinn realized.

"Quinn Fabray!" the disconnected voice that had woken her up earlier reverberated through her thin apartment walls and her eyes widened.

"Is that…" Sam started, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Santana," Quinn confirmed, covering her face with her hands. She took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking her loose hair off her shoulders. "Okay, you can't be here right now,"

Sam chuckled, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand gently, as if he wasn't absolutely terrified of the wrath that would come from Santana Lopez. "I'm pretty sure she's going to find out sooner or later – you're a terrible liar, Fabray," he teased.

"Shut up, I'm being serious," Quinn smacked him on the shoulder. "She's going to _flip_,"

"Would you relax?" he smirked, swinging his legs over the bed and pulling on his jeans. "We're all adults, right?"

Quinn scoffed. "You're cute," she shot back sarcastically, grabbing the nearest clothes she could find off the floor. "Let's just…get this over with," sighing, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and patted her cheeks, trying to look awake. Before her hand could slide her bedroom doors open, she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her waist and Sam's lips ghosted over the skin of her neck, causing a shiver to run up her spine. She turned in his grasp, looking up in to his green eyes, feeling herself get momentarily lost.

"I'm sorry, I'm just…this is all really weird," she apologized.

Sam chuckled again and that all-too-familiar smirk curled its way around his lips – when did that smirk go from annoying to ridiculously sexy? "I'll be out of the apartment faster than The Flash. I'm sure you can handle Santana, right?" Quinn frowned and scoffed, but Sam shook his head, not believing her. "Bring back the Queen of Mean," he advised, a small laugh escaping his lips, before he slid the bedroom door open.

To Quinn's surprise, Santana wasn't holding a chainsaw or an axe in her hands, ready to break something in frustration. Instead, she was standing near the kitchen counter, one hand on her hip, annoyance and worry etched across her face. Beside her, looking slightly hung over, was Rachel, clutching a coffee cup as if it held all the answers to the universe.

"What, are you completely deaf?" Santana spat, her heels clicking against the floor, as she rounded the counter to grab the coffee out of its tray. It was only when she turned back, that she realized there was another person in the apartment – Sam.

"Santana, I can explain…" Quinn started.

The Latina held her hand up to silence her and a sinister smile turned the corners of her lips upwards. "Hello, Trouty Mouth," she sneered.

"Hey, Santana," Sam answered tiredly. "If you don't mind, I've got somewhere to be," he tried to sidestep her, but Santana was faster – she stood in front of him and despite the height difference, Quinn couldn't help but notice that she was infinitely more intimidating than he was.

"Leaving so soon? Because I think I have a few things I'd like to say to you,"

"I _know_ you do and I doubt any of them are complimentary, so if you don't mind – I've got to go," Sam insisted.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I take it you two were just talking? All night long? With no clothes?"

"Wanky," Rachel snorted and a silence fell over the apartment - Quinn didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the whole situation.

"You owe me, Guppy Lips,"

"Look, the only person I owe anything to right now is Tina and Mike and Quinn – I don't know for what or why, and I'll figure that out as I go, but until I do, you're not getting anything from me, Santana," he said, his voice calculated and calm, as he took several steps towards the front door. "I'll see you, Quinn," Sam's eyes conveyed a warm message to her and she waved at him fruitlessly, watching him slip out the front door.

"Well. That was eventful," Quinn started. "Thanks for the coffee, San," she plucked the cup out of her friend's hands and curled herself up on the couch, trying to act as if nothing happened.

"Wait, did I drop into a Twilight zone? Are we going to ignore the fact that Sam Evans just slept over? In your bed?!" Santana screeched, throwing her arms up in frustration. "When did this happen? Does Mike know?" she asked, the questions rolling off her tongue quickly as she rushed to sit next to her.

Quinn took a breath and breathed out deeply, trying to get her thoughts under control. On one hand, she was having fun watching Santana squirm, but on the other, talking about what was and what wasn't made her extremely uncomfortable. When she didn't say anything for several minutes, Rachel chimed in.

"You do know he's still with Tina, right?"

"I thought they broke up," Santana said.

Rachel shook her head. "No, Kurt told me they're still together. And Blaine told him,"

"Well, Britt told me they broke up and…"

"Oh my god, will you listen to yourselves?" Quinn scoffed. "It's like we're back at McKinley,"

"I'm sorry, but aren't you sleeping with your high school ex-boyfriend? Looks like you're the one who's still stuck on school spirit," Santana sneered.

"Sam came over last night because he was upset about what happened with Tina. What he and I did…it wasn't right," Quinn sighed, her shoulders sagging with the weight of the previous night. Leaning back into her couch, she ran a hand through her hair and tugged at the strands forcefully, trying to find some way to justify what they had done.

It hurt her heart to admit that there was no justification, no reasoning, and certainly no way to make it all okay.

"Quinn, what does…what does this mean?" Rachel asked softly, her eyes wide with concern.

"You look like a tarsier," the blonde spat out unnecessarily. "I don't _know _what it means,"

Santana made a noise that sounded like a half-snort, half-chuckle. "I can tell you - Sam cheated on Tina and Quinn helped. What just screws it up even more is that Tina already cheated on Sam with Mike,"

The silence was loud between the three girls and the tension hung thick in the air. Quinn winced at Santana's words – they cut too close and they were more truthful than she wanted to admit. Sam had never cheated on anybody before, at least not intentionally.

And Quinn knew all too well – the pain of cheating on someone you loved was brutal and led you to do stupid, stupid things.

* * *

At ten minutes to 4, Quinn flicked the switch on the stereo and waited, as Mike led their modern dance class into a freestyle session. Happiness bubbled inside her, as she watched her best friend glide gracefully across the floor, his limbs moving fluidly, as if he had no bones in his body. There was a certain glee that came with dance for both of them – for an hour and a half, the world kept spinning, but time stopped inside their studio. But despite the joy that dance class usually brought her, Quinn could hardly concentrate, with her thoughts screaming loudly inside her head.

Checking the time on the clock, Mike dismissed their class and promptly walked over to her, hands on his hips. "Alright, why the sour mood today?"

"I'm not sour," she replied immediately, bending down to pick up her dance bag. "I'm tired. I missed my morning class, which means I've got a ton of reading to catch up on. My professor is a slave driver,"

"And you're Little Miss Liar," Mike chuckled, nudging his sweaty, bare shoulder against hers. "Come on, tell me. It's Sam, isn't it?"

At the sound of his name, Quinn's head immediately snapped back up, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you assume it's Sam? I could easily just be annoyed," she scowled, switching off the lights to the studio and walking out onto the busy sidewalk, heading towards the nearest subway with Mike by her side.

"Actually, it's because Tina called me," he said simply, his shoulders shrugging his dance bag higher up. "But now that you've gotten all defensive…_clearly_ this has nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend who you kissed the other night," Mike chuckled, leaning back against the plastic seat on the subway. He leaned over and ruffled Quinn's hair affectionately, but she ducked away, irritated.

"Tina called you?" she asked, her nose wrinkling.

Mike nodded, his body lurching slightly as the train came to a stop and people streamed in and out of the car. "Yeah. She was worried. Sam hadn't come home two nights in a row, after their fight, so she thought he was with me,"

"He wasn't,"

"No, he wasn't. He was with you. Both nights,"

Quinn took in a deep breath, before leaning down on the plastic seat to rest her head on Mike's shoulder. "To be fair, it was just last night. He left my apartment after we kissed,"

"What happened last night?" he asked, his voice soft. Quinn smiled lazily and lifted her head to face her best friend. Just as she expected, he wasn't angry or disappointed. Mike was genuinely interested and for the first time since she had woken up that morning, Quinn didn't feel guilty about what had happened between her and Sam.

"We just…fit," she tried to bite back her smile.

"That's kind of gross,"

"Shut up," Quinn laughed, punching him playfully on the arm. "You know what I mean, right? Like…like everything just lined up and felt right and like…"

"Like the world finally made sense again," Mike finished. "It's the same way I felt when I saw Tina for the first time in the city,"

Quinn felt tears spring to her eyes, as her best friend's expression turned from soft to heart wrenching. There was a girl he was in love with – a girl he would always be in love with – and she was with someone else. She was calling him to keep tabs on her boyfriend, who wasn't Mike, but Mike's best friend. And how did Quinn – cynical and jaded Quinn Fabray – manage to get what she wanted without even realizing it was what she needed?

She didn't want to hurt Tina or Mike or Sam. But it was uncontrollable and she couldn't stop it – Quinn was tethered and it was going to take all of her fight not to let go.

* * *

After Mike hopped off the train to make his way to a study group, Quinn decided to walk to the Red Tree Café for a cup of hot tea. It was calm and cool in the late afternoon and she stopped just outside the shop, adjusting her scarf and digging around her bag for her wallet. Preoccupied as she was, Quinn noticed the glass doors opening and she stepped aside quickly to let whoever it was pass her.

"Quinn?"

Her head snapped back up, her wallet falling to the ground, as the familiar voice hit her like whiplash. Tina, all pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, was standing in front of her, clutching a to-go cup of what was probably pitch black coffee. "Uh…" she stumbled, mentally whacking herself for being so shaken – as if she wasn't so obviously guilty.

"How are you? We haven't seen each other since…"

"Since Finn came back?" Quinn offered.

Tina drew in a breath, letting it out shakily, as if she were debating what to say next. Her fingers tapped against the cardboard sleeve of her coffee cup and she shifted her gaze to a point over Quinn's shoulder. "Actually, since you saw me kissing Mike,"

Her words sent Quinn's mind into a tailspin – did Tina actually have the audacity and the courage to talk about it _here,_ in front of the Red Tree Café, of all places? "Tina, I…"

"You saw me. It's okay. I just…can I ask you something?" Quinn nodded wordlessly. "Did Sam ever say anything to you? About me? This is weird, isn't it? You know what; I shouldn't even be asking you this. It's just; I know Mike probably told you about…everything,"

"No, it's alright," the words spilled out of her mouth before she had time to even think. But the truth was, it wasn't alright. Because all of a sudden, Quinn was struck with a wave of guilt – here was shy, unsuspecting Tina Cohen-Chang, who made one little mistake and was feeling complete and utter remorse about it. She was distraught and worried about her boyfriend – not that he would find out, but she was genuinely worried about his safety and his well-being. Tina was being miles more mature than Quinn ever would be.

"I guess I shouldn't be _too _worried. I mean, Sam came back this morning and he apologised, so I should be really happy that everything is back to normal," Tina quipped.

Quinn nodded along, half-listening. "Great,"

"I mean, he wouldn't have come back if he didn't really love me, right?" Tina pressed on and Quinn flinched, feeling the conversation steering towards an uncomfortable area. Narrowing her eyes down at her friend, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"No offense, Tina, but I don't really want to talk about it," she said, in the haughtiest voice she could muster. A sliver of satisfaction swept over Quinn, as she saw Tina's eyes widen in surprise, before her expression went back to being calm and collected.

"I just thought…you know…since you guys are _so close_," Tina emphasized the last two words with a pointed look, her eyebrows raised accusingly.

This time, it was Quinn's turn to take a small step back in surprise. It had been easy to overpower Tina – back in high school and even now. But here, outside the Red Tree Café…_'she knows. She knows something happened with me and Sam,'_ Quinn thought, panicking inwardly. Running a hand through her messy hair, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. "Whatever goes on between you and Sam is none of my business – we all look out for each other, you know that," she insisted.

"Yeah, some more than others," Tina scoffed, tossing her blue-streaked hair over her shoulder.

Quinn sighed tiredly. "It's a whole new city, Tee," she said, her tone flippant.

"Like that makes a difference. It's still the same game with the same players,"

Taking a beat to calm her beating heart and willing herself not to rip into Tina right then and there, Quinn just let out a breath and fiddled with the wallet in her hands. When she didn't say anything, Tina spoke up, her voice bubbly with confidence again.

"Well, at least Sam and I are still together. God, I really don't know what I'd do without him in the city – he's just so…_reliable_," Tina grinned earnestly and Quinn cringed, trying hard not to slap the stupid smile off her face. "Anyway, I've got to run. I'm meeting him for dinner. It's so great to be in love when you're in the city, isn't it?"

With a quick hug, Tina flounced away and Quinn finally realized her knuckles had turned white from clutching her wallet. There was something unnerving in the way she had said those words – as if she was pointed them directly at Quinn, throwing it in her face, that despite everything that happened, Sam had still chosen to go back to Tina.

And the worst part was, Quinn was letting herself get affected.

She had tried hard to distance herself, to disconnect from any old memories of Sam that still lingered in her mind, but when he had stomped back into her life and they had spent one blissful night together, Quinn knew – it just wasn't that easy. Not when the memories that were so long ago buried in the past reappeared with the bright promise of a tangible future. And even though what they did was wrong, Quinn knew in her heart – once the walls had been slowly broken down again, by the one boy who always took the time to search for the real her – that Sam could never be just a forgotten memory.

But now, with Tina in the picture, Quinn was relegated to second choice – a place she was never accustomed with. It was easy to her; Sam and Tina break up, Mike and Tina get together, Sam and Quinn get together. What was so difficult about that arrangement? But she had to keep reminding herself that Sam and Tina were real – they hadn't gotten together to be vindictive or vengeful, at some point, they did love each other. Which made Tina's comments understandable – she was only reminding Quinn what she had clearly forgotten. And although it made her angry and upset, she couldn't dismiss it.

Tina and Sam belonged to each other for now, and Quinn and Mike were merely distractions from the past.


	11. Chapter 11: Stay

**Alright, y'all - Chapter ELEVEN. Things are moving along nicely, aren't they? :P**

**Last chapter, you saw a little bit of the aftermath that came with Sam & Quinn sleeping together. We saw Quinn talking to Mike and surprisingly, Tina running into Quinn and giving her serious shade. **

**This next chapter is just a continuation, but I hope you'll be very, very happy. I had a lot of fun writing this one and incorporating the song, Stay by Sugarland (such a gorgeous song - please check it out!). Quick warning though, this is very, very angsty. But Quinn's just an angsty person anyway, so...there you go. Lol.**

**I don't own Glee obviously. Otherwise, Quinn would've been back for The Quarterback. Side note: how beautiful was that episode? Such a fitting tribute for an amazing soul.**

**Anyway, please read and review and I hope y'all like it! Appreciate if you could tell me what you love about the fic and what you don't like - especially anything**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Stay**

She let the door close behind her, taking in a disgusted breath of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Pulling the beanie off her head, Quinn took several calculated steps towards the bar stools, settling herself in comfortably, her palms down on the counter top. The noise around her rose and she suspected it was the football game that played on the televisions that caused it, but her head was too full and too cluttered to care.

"You're here,"

She looked up and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, a sniff wrinkling her nose. "I needed a drink," she explained.

"It's 6 PM," Santana pointed out, but she grabbed a bottle of tequila and a shot glass anyway, lining up the drink in front of her. "Take it easy,"

Quinn rolled her eyes and threw back the drink, wincing as the liquid burned her throat. She stayed quiet for a while, avoiding Santana's questioning gaze. "Things suck,"

"I imagine the sex makes it suck a little less,"

"Shut up,"

Santana sighed, leaning forward on the bar top. Her dark, chocolate hair swept over one shoulder; she placed a comforting hand on top of Quinn's. "I'm sorry. That was out of line, I couldn't help it. But, can I ask you something?" Santana started, pulling out two water bottles. "Why did you guys do it? You knew it was wrong," she twisted off both caps and handed one to Quinn, who had a dazed look etched across her features.

"I don't know. It didn't feel wrong when we were doing it – it felt right," she groaned, running a hand through her hair, mussing it up. "It was like everything fit and everything that was sort of floating before finally came down to the ground and I just…it made sense, San. More than it ever did in high school," Quinn breathed out shakily, taking a sip of water.

Santana, sensing her best friend needed something a little harder than just water, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and tipped some of the amber liquid into a glass. She nudged it across the counter top, before leaning over to look at Quinn in her eyes directly. "Is it better than it was in high school? Wiser, more adult, more mature, more real? Because that's what it's like with Brittany. And if that's what it's like with you and Sam…then that's the only way I can be on your side about it,"

"It's like the past got brought forward to the present and now I can't imagine a future without him," Quinn mumbled, after hesitating. Her voice shook and there was a lump in her throat – she knew that if she tried to say anything else, she'd start to cry. Instead, she choked out a simple question. "What do I do?"

"You love him, Quinn," Santana answered, worry clouding her features. "Even if he also loves Tina,"

She cringed, feeling her heart sink at the harsh reality that Sam and Tina were _still together_. "I don't have a chance, do I?"

Santana sighed, wiping down the countertop and keeping an eye on the drunken men who occupied the other end of the bar. "Maybe you do,"

"What, you think I should steal him away from Tina?" Quinn asked, briefly entertaining the thought.

"No, don't be ridiculous," Santana rolled her eyes. "He's already slipping away from Tina – you guys spent the night together, remember? Your chance will come, I guess," she shrugged.

"So I'm just supposed to sit here and watch Tina act all loved up with Sam?" Quinn wrinkled her nose, pushing the empty glass of whiskey towards Santana for a refill. "You know she knows, right?"

"I think she has…an idea of what could have happened,"

"Bullshit – she knows and she made sure I knew that, too. You should've been there earlier, when I ran into her at Red Tree. It was like she was marking her territory all over Sam. Like she was rubbing it in my face that _she won_," Quinn spat, hating the way the words sounded. A part of her wanted to be mature and understanding. She wanted to accept that Sam had a different life with Tina, one that didn't involve any of his ex-girlfriends. But the other part of her – the vindictive ex-Cheerio in her – wanted to trump Tina and take her down. That part wanted to deserve Sam, wanted to love him and steal him back.

Santana sighed again, trying to steady her frustration. Leaning forward, she locked eyes with Quinn, trying to calm her down. "Maybe that's what she wanted to do. Look, put yourself in her shoes for a second – wouldn't you have done the exact same thing?"

Quinn paused, tracing the outline of her glass contemplatively and trying her hardest to avoid Santana's gaze. "Yeah," she conceded.

"So you can't blame her. She wants to remind you that Sam is still hers – and obviously, she has reason to remind you of it," Santana bit her lip, pulling away slightly. "Look, are you going to be okay? Because there's a table back there that's been calling me for the past five minutes and I need to get on it,"

"Go, I'll be fine," Quinn waved her hand dismissively, reaching for the bottle of Jack.

"No. You're not doing that," Santana snatched it away. "Get real, Fabray. We both know what you're going to do next. And it involves getting drunk off something else,"

Quinn's eyes widened at the Latina's suggestion, but Santana showed no sign of remorse. Instead, she raised her eyebrows with a knowing smirk, grabbed a sticky menu off the counter, and strutted towards the waiting table, her short skirt swishing from side to side.

* * *

If there was one thing Quinn hated, it was letting the little things get to her. She had worked so hard at keeping up appearances, the last thing she needed was for something to make it all fall apart – which was exactly what Tina managed to do in so few words.

_'It's unfairly understandable, which just makes everything that much more frustrating,'_ Quinn thought, her jaw locked and anger bubbling inside her, as she took long, purposeful strides towards her apartment building. Night had fallen, but the city was just getting started and from across the road, Quinn could see the beginnings of a rowdy night for a group of fraternity boys, who whistled appreciatively at her. She rolled her eyes and turned the corner sharply, dodging a couple who were busy making out against the side of the building.

"What, is it let's-all-annoy-Quinn day?!" she muttered, running up the stairs. Stopping in the empty lobby of her building (save for the security guard who was sleeping soundly), she pulled open her bag and rummaged through it, looking for her keys. Becoming increasingly frustrated, she cursed under her breath, pulling out various items and balancing them in her mouth, her knee, and the space between her head and shoulder. "Come on, where are you?" she asked, to no one in particular.

"Hey,"

The voice, which she wasn't expecting, caused her to squeal loudly and then drop everything she was holding. "Damnit!" she cried, immediately bending down. "What the hell were you thinking?" she snapped, hearing whoever it was chuckle softly, before he bent down to help her.

"Hey," he repeated.

Quinn took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh, her head lifting to take a good look at who it was, even though she already knew.

Sam – it was always Sam.

Her eyes met his green ones and she briefly lost herself in him, the way one corner of his lips curled up slightly and the way his muscles rippled underneath his wife-beater and plaid shirt. "Hi," she replied breathlessly. "Sorry, I'm…a mess," she chuckled weakly, getting to her feet.

He handed her apartment keys to her, since they had fallen onto the floor, and shrugged. "No big deal,"

"Do you…want to come up?" Quinn asked hesitantly, mentally kicking herself. It dawned on her that this was exactly what Santana had been talking about – she wasn't going to get drunk off booze, not when Sam Evans was in front of her.

Unsurprisingly, Sam ran a nervous hand through his hair and nodded. With a soft smile, they both went into the elevator and the ride up to Quinn's apartment was silent – although the tension between them was electric. They crossed towards her door and with a swift click; they entered her apartment – for the third time that week.

"Do you want something to drink?" Quinn offered, tossing her keys on the side table and headed towards her kitchen.

"Did Tina talk to you?" he asked abruptly. Quinn stumbled slightly, her fingers reaching out to grasp the edge of the counter. Her knuckles turned white and she bit her lip hard, trying not to say the first things that came to her – they were all accusing, all horrible, all bitter words, anyway.

She took a deep breath and let it out, turning to face him. "She did. Did you ask her to?"

"No, I didn't," His voice was clipped and short and for a split second, Quinn thought he was actually mad at her. But one look at his soft, warm green eyes told her differently – Sam was conflicted. There was a storm brewing in that head of his and underneath the cool façade he had adopted, something worried him.

"So…"

"So what did she say?"

Quinn sighed, suddenly feeling all the frustration she had been holding in bubble up to the surface. Turning to face him with a slow fire burning in her hazel eyes, she steeled her gaze, determined not to break.

"What do you _think_ she said, Sam? She knows! At the very least, she knows that you came to find me after your fight and she's just so happy that you go home to her – instead of me – every night. And I'm not…I'm not mad, but I'm not happy, because all of this is messed up and stupid and we probably should've never slept together in the first place!"

Tears sprung to her eyes and she tried desperately to steady her voice. But now that the words had finally escaped her, there was no way to bring them back. "I just…I just wanted everything to be different, but I never wanted to hurt you or Tina, except now she's just shoving you in my face and now I just…" Quinn trailed off, her hiccups turning almost violent as she broke down.

"You just really want to hurt her," Sam finished and she had to let out a soft laugh, with a roll of her eyes. "You know what I mean," he shook his head, stepping forward to gently grab at her wrists.

"I don't want to get in between you and Tina. I don't want you to break up at the expense of me or Mike – you guys got together on your own and you should break up on your own, with no outside influences," Quinn started, trying to work through her own thoughts in her head. It was hard, she noted, with Sam standing so close to her. "I just…I think…"

"What? What, Quinn?" he asked, bending down to brush his lips against her ear. She felt his breath across her skin and it made a shiver run up her bare arm.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get her thoughts under control. But he was consuming her in a way he never had before and it was making her dizzy, the words she wanted to say getting stuck in the back of her throat. Looking up at him, Quinn decided to let the weight fall off her shoulders and with the softest whisper she could muster, she said,

"I think I love you."

It hung in the air, dangling between their bodies like a promise on a string. The words felt both foreign and familiar on her tongue and she tried her hardest to keep her gaze on Sam's eyes, which reflected back to her with worry, concern, and a little sparkle that she knew lingered from years before. Quinn could feel her heart beating wildly against her bones, but as Sam slipped his fingers over her hip bone, it stilled. Time seemed to freeze between them. Surely, the world was moving, but Quinn couldn't focus on anything else – it was as if it had all melted away, leaving Sam Evans in its wake.

Slowly, softly, and ever so gently, Sam's lips pressed against her own – hesitant and wary at first, before confidence and determination set in. Quinn lost herself in his mouth, the way it worked perfectly against hers and the way his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. Instinctively, she moved her hands up to tangle her fingers in his hair and he maneuvered their bodies so she was pinned against the kitchen wall.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she whispered against his lips breathlessly, pulling away from him to clear her thoughts a little. Sam mumbled something incoherent against the skin of her neck and his hands wandered underneath her shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Sam, I just…with Tina…and Mike…we don't…" she stuttered.

Sam let out a strangled sigh, pulling away abruptly, and she immediately missed his warmth. "Quinn," he started. "I know what I'm getting myself into, alright? I know I'm still with Tina. And you know what? She's probably still in love with Mike,"

"Well, you can't just…"

"Shut up,"

Sam grabbed her waist and pulled her body against his forcefully, so unexpectedly that a small squeal escaped her lips. Without a moment's hesitation, he covered her lips with his own and this time, neither could deny what was bound to happen.

This time, it was different.

She felt it growing in the depths of her stomach, a slow burning fire that seemed to engulf every piece of her heart and made the corners of her soul wake with a new energy. Hands roamed and fingers clutched and clawed at skin and fabric and for the first time in three years, Quinn finally felt complete again.

* * *

She had purchased the clock at a flea market, during a random trip to Williamsburg with Mike and Rachel, last year. Essentially, it was a black cube, but the digits lit up fiercely – and in the dark of the night, the glowing numbers kept Quinn wide awake. 3 AM and she was faced with the sudden reality that the space beside her was empty, turned cold by the absence of another body. Breathing in a deep breath and reminding herself that there was no reason to panic just yet, Quinn grabbed the plaid shirt hanging off the foot of the bed and slung it over her shoulders, stepping out of her comfortable covers.

There was a small sliver of light that came in through the sliding doors and straining her ear, Quinn could hear the soft plucks from an acoustic guitar. A smile spread across her lips and she slowly, but surely, made her way out to her living room. There, bathed in the soft glow of a yellow lamp light, sat Sam Evans. Barefoot, shirtless, and his hair mussed up to bedhead perfection, there was a guitar in his lap, and his long fingers made expert work against the strings. It was a vaguely familiar tune, reminiscent of the country songs he used to sing to her in the back of his pickup truck in Lima, and for that, Quinn's heart warmed.

"Quit starin' at me," Sam's voice came unexpectedly, his head not lifting up at all, as if he had sensed her presence in the room.

"I wasn't staring. Don't flatter yourself," she chuckled, grabbing the wool blanket off the back of the couch and settling in beside him. "It's 3 in the morning,"

Sam sighed, resting his arms on the guitar and turning to face her. "I know. Hi," with a mischievous grin, he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.

It lasted only a second, but Quinn could already feel the dizziness that came with Sam's kisses – the beginnings of something that would eclipse her thoughts. "Hi. What are you working on?" she asked, gesturing towards the guitar.

"Nothing. I couldn't sleep and my mind was just really…playing helps to calm it," Sam shrugged, letting his fingers fall over the strings.

"Play me something," Quinn said suddenly, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"Last I checked, you weren't a fan of country music," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the arm. "You know I have a soft spot for it,"

"Really? When did you last hear a country song?"

Quinn bit her lip, trying to recall the last time she had tuned into a country music station. With a wry smile, she answered, "When Tina invited Mike and me over for dinner. It was Blake Shelton's Who Are You When I'm Not Looking,"

Sam let out a breath and then chuckled softly under his breath. "That seems like a lifetime ago,"

"Come on, play me something,"

"Alright, alright," he relented. With a short cough, he prepped his fingers and started to strum a familiar melody.

_My oh my, you're so good-looking  
Hold yourself together like a pair of bookends  
But I've not tasted all your cooking  
Who are you when I'm not looking?_

Quinn giggled, burying her nose into Sam's shoulder, as his country twang filled her living room. There was a light in her heart that certainly was never there before and it baffled her how easy it was for it to get there – all it took was a Southern boy with a guitar for her whole world to melt away.

"You're silly," she grinned.

"I thought you liked Blake Shelton,"

"I do," Quinn breathed out.

Silence fell between them comfortably and without either of them saying it, they knew the morning light would soon filter through those curtains and signal a brand new day. It made Quinn feel desperate to hold on to the moment – whatever it was – between them.

As Sam went back to plucking away on the guitar, she got up and made two cups of tea, making sure to put extra sugar in both. She took a quick glance at the clock – 3.45 AM – before settling in next to him, her fingers tracing the outline of his bicep, as he played. There wasn't much to say between them, not when they had both laid all their cards out the night before. Quinn blushed at the thought, remembering how Sam's touch had sparked something in her, something unexplainable, but all too real.

Time passed, as it often did, and Quinn sipped her tea comfortably, trying to commit every part of the past twenty-four hours to memory. Just as she was in the middle of replaying her earlier conversation with Santana at the bar, a recognizable melody started to fill the living room. Her heart skipped a beat as she placed the song – an old favorite that Sam used to play on the motel porch back when she was a junior. As the easy, slow tune found its home on his fingers, Quinn couldn't help herself – she started to sing.

_I've been sitting here staring at the clock on the wall  
__And I've been laying here praying, praying she won't call.  
__It's just another call from home  
__And you'll get it and be gone  
__And I'll be crying..._

Quinn's voice broke, realizing just how true to life the lyrics were. Her eyes, bright with tears, turned to look at Sam, who couldn't stop playing if he tried. Taking a breath, his voice soon filled the room, causing shivers to run up her spine.

_And I'll be begging you, baby,  
__Beg you not to leave.  
__But I'll be left here waiting  
__With my heart on my sleeve  
__Oh, for the next time we'll be here  
__Seems like a million years  
__And I think I'm dying…__  
_

Without missing a beat, Quinn went straight into the next part, relishing in the way the words and the melody seemed to fit her perfectly – despite how bittersweet it was.

_What do I have to do to make you see  
__She can't love you like me?  
__Why don't you stay?  
__I'm down on my knees.  
__I'm so tired of being lonely,  
__Don't I give you what you need?  
__When she calls you to go,  
__There is one thing you should know,  
__We don't have to live this way  
__Baby, why don't you stay?__  
_

The first rays of morning streamed through the windows, coating the apartment in delicate warmth. And although Sam kept playing, neither of them had it in themselves to continue the song – it was too close for comfort, because Quinn realized that all she wanted was for Sam to stay. She was desperate and hoping and vulnerable – all the things she swore to herself she never would be in the face of love. Somewhere in between breaking Sam's heart the first time and moving to the city, Quinn had convinced herself that letting someone in was weak. But here, with Sam again, she – she was open and trusting with him and even though it had already hurt her, a part of her heart knew it didn't matter.

It was worth it, all the pain was worth it, if he would just _stay_.

Sam's fingers stilled and the living room was silent again. Quinn wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and made a move to stand up, but Sam pulled her back down gently – pressing his lips to hers. It was a different kiss this time, unsure and apologetic, and when he pulled away, Quinn saw his green eyes glistening. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of a phone ringing startled both of them. With a jump, Sam reached towards the coffee table and sighed loudly, sliding his finger across the screen and pressing the small device to his ear.

"Hi, Tee," he winced.

Quinn sucked in her breath, letting it out shakily. Choking back a sob, she pressed her lips to Sam's bare bicep, before grabbing her unfinished mug of tea and heading back into her bedroom. There was a bittersweet unfairness to the whole situation and she knew there was no way she'd be able to handle hearing him talk to Tina.

Several minutes later, Sam walked into her bedroom and settled himself at the foot of the bed. The ease that came with playing a simple country song seemed to wash off his shoulders, replaced by a weight that came with a furrowed brow.

"So…" he started.

"You have to go," Quinn cut him off, her tone of voice curt. Hugging her knees to her chest, she looked smaller than usual – reserved and more vulnerable, if possible.

"Tina's parents are in town for the day,"

"I get it. Just…just go, okay?"

Sam groaned, leaning forward and gathering Quinn in his arms. It was an awkward fit, her knees on his lap and their arms curled clumsily around each other. She tried hard not to cry, but when they pulled apart, Sam let out a soft chuckle. "You can cry and be sad, you know. I won't tell anyone,"

"Thanks," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. He curled his fingers under her chin and brought her close, resting his forehead against hers and for a good minute, they breathed each other in. Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the hopeless desperation rise within her. She wanted to say something, _anything_ that could convince him to stay with her, and not run back to Tina – Tina, who was obviously the easier, simpler, less dramatic choice.

But before Quinn could even try to string together the right words, Sam pressed his full lips to her forehead and traced the outline of her cheek, before pulling away and leaving the bedroom.

She heard her front door fall shut and she drew in a hesitant breath, before exhaling. No matter how hard she tried to stay composed, her shoulders shook and fell, a sob rising from the depths of her throat.

'_This is how a heart breaks.'_


End file.
